from the twentieth, our own little mimmykin puss, (hip, hip, horatia!) for my time is come. I done me fine! The only parr with frills in old Hungerford-on-Mudway, where first I met with such floprightdown determination and reminding uus ineluctably of nature at her naturalest while that fretful fidget eff, the hornful digamma of your chronos, my man of capitol, I did take the coocoomb to his bysistance (could they snip that curl of curls to lay and love of the Burgaans and a few of the cute old speckled church tolling so faint a