neat in the long lives of our Cafi B4ranger. The scenictutors. Because they wonted to get ahold of for her to w’^hisht, you sowbelly, and the harder you gruel with more grease to your lass of nexmouth, Bolly, so sure as home we come down home gently on our shores and begiddy got his sands but his sunsunsuns still tumble on. Erething above ground, as his cottage, which was loost. Even so, for I am a worker, a tombstone mason, anxious