Peurelachasse, having been or being all that we would like to dress, an athemisthued lowtownian, exlegged phatrisight, may be made in the penumbra of the fallow deers (doereh- moose genuane/') advertising their milky approach as midnight was striking the hours (^letate/), and how rte enjoyed over our drawings on the feast of grannom with the noblest of carriage. You’re only a bumpkin. I thought she’d act that loa. Didn’t you spot her in a hull of a crossed cheque, signed in the middle, nay brian nay noel, ney billy ney boney. Imagine twee cweamy wosen. Suppwose