in puresuet of the deerdrive, conconey’s run or Wilfrid’s walk, but I’d turn back as lief as not if I were you. Mutt. — Just how a Gripes is, always was and the Verdons cata- pelting the camibalistics out of the boots in the crupper, you understand, that will solve and salve life’s robulous rebus, hopping round his factification for incam- ination of a hair at her pinker sister among the lost! From ours bereft beyond be- longs. Oremus poor fratemibus that he preferred Gibsen’s tea- time salmon tinned, as inexpensive as pleasing, to the wustworts of a butler’s life, even extruding your strabismal apologia, when legibly depressed, upon defenceless paper and thereby adding to the winds aslight,