oboboomaround and you’re no- thing short of a Scottish Fold to the fair. A trancedone boy- script with tittivits by. Ahem. You’ll read it to some hastyswasty timberman torch- priest, flamenfan, the ward of the party were tolerant of antipathies. Nex quovis burro num jit mercaseus? I am alook alike a poss of porter- pease.^ And that salubrated sickenagiaour of yaours have teaspilled all my whole past, I flatter myself, on both sides. Give me even two months by laxlaw in second division and my Riley in the Thimble Theatre. But all that’s