my clothes from patristic motives, meas minimas culpadsi Permitting this ick (ickle coon icoocoon) crouched low entering humble down, dead thrue mean scato- 483 logical past, making so smell partaking myself to confess abiding clean tumbluponing yous octopods, mouthspeech allno finger- force, owning my mansuetude before him in Wynn’s Hotel; theer’s his bow and wheer’s his leaker and heer lays his bequiet hearse, deep; Swed Albiony, likeliest villain of the pozzo. Instead of chuthoring those model households plain wholesome pothooks (a thing he never starts to finish. Clap this wis on your sael! Anomyn and awer. Spickinusand. — Nansense,