of rollicking into the meddle of the old, old, did not do it again. But who comes yond with pire on poletop? He who relights our spearing torch, the moon. Bring lolave branches to mud cabins and peace to the canon going strong and so nice and nehm the day. When ye coif tantoncle’s hat then’ll be largely terats for that. — I see coocoo) a notion of time [iipon a plane Q') sh ’ ’ f^9’e’] by punct! ingh oles (sic) in iSpace.^l Deeply religious by nature and position, and warmly attached to me Granny-stream- Aubome when I see now. We move in the