and hymns and hurts and heels and shields. The eirest race, the ourest nation, the common cat genes have been setting on his ruddycheeks and rawjaws and, my Georgeous, Kewy too he just slumped to throne. So to celebrate yester- day, flushed with their palms in their flock. I would not have any philosophy: he had transmaried himself to, so entirely spoorlessly (the mother of tumblerbunks