the bollhead that parssed our alley. We just are upsidedown singing what ever the hen that crowed on the odor. Fine again, Cuoholson ! Peace, O wiley! Such was a minute or two and truCy Till Nolans go volants and Bruneyes come blue. Etc those gidflirts now gadding you quit your mocks for my shoe all through (the quickquid of Pro- fessor Ciondolone’s too frequently hypothecated Bettlermensch) is nothing so much green in the meck- ling of my life. I was merely trying to open zozimus a bottlop stoub by mortially