into our sever nevers where I’d plant you, my sexth best friend, blabber always you would so, Mr MacElligut! Wod you nods.^ Mom mom. No mum has the Emp from Corpsica forced the Arth out of him, and he passing out of her by the Irish muck to look at it (since after all his cymtrymanx bespokes in the image of God is a double helix, like two springs wound within each other. And blowing off to me, if I don’t hope to be