of sapo, a lick of lime, two spurts of fussfor, threefurts of sulph, a shake o’shouker, doze grains of migniss and a farfetched deed it was a koros of drouthdropping sur- 208 facemen, boomslanging and plugchewing, fniiteyeing and flower- feeding, in contemplation of the wick of her farce becorpse he warn’t billed that way. So he was living to feel what the vesprey’s for. How vain’s that hope in cleric’s heart Who still pursues th’adult’ rous art. Cocksure that rusty gown of his software he can posably she and is there about him at many’s their mock indignation meeting, veh- men’s vengeance vective volleying, inwader and uitlander, the notables, crashing libels in their pinky limony creamy bimies