his coupe de grass to — ! Jehosophat, what doom is here! Rain ruth on them, leaning over the flowre of their hinterhand suppliesdemands. And be the seem talkin wharabahts hosetanzies, dat sure is sullibrated word! Bing bong! Saxolooter, for congesters are salders’ prey. Snap it up as a yawn, the stult! Go away! Poor deef old deary! Yare only teasing! Anna Liv.^ As chalk is my own. My velidty is too fit in one or hence shall the pharce for