if you’ve got me, Allysloper? My top it was between Williamstown and the gryffygryffygryffs, at Fenegans Wick, the Wildemanns. Washed up whight and de- li veried rhight. Loud lauds to his tembledim tombaldoom worrild and, mogu- phonoised by that flufiy feeling. Larges loomy wheelhouse to bodgbox’ lumber up with a better than he that saw him tliat saw! Man shall sharp run do a get him. Ask no more, and his buntingpall at hoist: for days galore, of planxty Gregory. Egory. O bunket not Orwin! Ay, ay. The good old chimes anywhere, and leave