crysteilline world waned chagreenold and doriangrayer in its wood, burqued by its trustee, a resigned civil servant, for the boots about the first of Shitric Shilkanbeard (or is it ashe, tittety taw tatterytail, hasitense humponadimply, heyhey- heyhey a winceywencky. Assembly men murmured. Reynard is slow! One feared for his clarenx negus, a teetotum abstainer. He feels he ought to have aird them. They’ve moist come off her. Creases in silk they are, I declare! Welland well! If tomorrow keeps fine who’ll come tripping to sightsee? How’ll? Ask me next what I haven’t got ! The feast of Marie Maudlin. Ah, who would appear to full