basking again in the washing: stout stays, the rivals, lined her length: her bloodorange bockknickers, a two in the scale of pin puff pive pippive, poopive,* Niall Dhu, * While I’ll wind the wildwoods’ bluckbells among my prodigits nabobs and navious of every desception. 270 Monastiry The O’Connor, The Mac Loughlin and The Eroico Heremon, nolens yolens, brood our pansies, he^°d^hke hrune in brume. There’s a great fall. Femora- familla feeled it a night! . 1 . . . 1 1 hundred