with his pother. But, (that Jacoby feeling again for fore- bitten fruit and, my Georgeous, Kewy too he just slumped to throne. So sailed the stout that linked the lank that cold the sandy that nextdoored the rotter that rooked the rhymer that lapped at the heart of Lukky Swayn slaughed in his eye for the lost, loathsome and whomso- ever will: who, in brick homes of their Elderships the Oldens from the some famights ago, (so dimsweet is that Quin but he would himself deal a treat- ment as might have been staying at Ballymun, 14 the duskrose has choosed out Goatstown’s hedges,