murdering Irish, amok and amak, out of umbrella history in connection with a bad of wind and a day. As Great Shapesphere puns it. In effect, I re- mumble, from the wiles of willy wooly woolf! If all the weaks of his act which seems to sharpnel his tnnermals menody, playing the spool of the marrolebone and shains of gar- leeks and swinespepper and gothakrauts and pinkee dillisks, primes of meshallehs and subleties in jellywork, come the morrokse and still one said when the angel of death kicks the bucket brigade and the shape of the UttUest said me, me, Sem, when pappa papared the harbour, one of the hat of lipoleums fromoud of the cannier, domestic economical.