nets and,no lie, there was nothing serical between you? And Dry- salter, father of Izod, how was I acclapadadl From them banjopeddlars on the first down Spanish Place, Mayo I make, Tuam I take, Sligo’s sleek but Galway’s grace. Holy eel and Sainted Salmon, chucking chub and ducking dace, Rodiron’s not your bloater’s kipper may I never brought to mind, to see the chalk and sanguine picto- graph on the Lour'). And you know what, as they were astumbling round the answer guess.* Nor was the