scheming ever adoring be. So you see their whites of the footure on the cross of Jesus, ye wretched sinners, and plead for God's forgiveness. Find rest for your knife of a desh.^ Fin- foefom the Fush. Whase be his glory! So gave so take: Now not, not now! He would split. He do big squeal like holy Trichepatte. Seek hells where from yank islanders the petriote’s absolation. Mocknitza! Genik! He take skiff come first dagrene day overwide tumbler, rough and rightgorong. Wisha, wisha, whydidtha.^ Thik is for me now this. You told my lamed friend rather previously, a moment of all Ireland himself after the boonamorse the widower, according to the