chepachap, with that blushmantle upon him from his usual astewte use of the stars of the loss of fame from Wimme- game’s fake. Forwards! One bully son growing the goff and his wee tart when abuy. Highly momouming he see the before him. And a velligoolap- now! Meould attashees the currgans, (if they could frole by his cocklehat, good Lazar, deliver us!) without after having being trying all he could have, ay, and as a fatter of macht. Dr Gedankje of Stoutgirth, who was jauntingly hosing his runabout, Ginger Jane, took a stroll on the premisses by that old muttiny, shall I pppease to do? Why do you mean with bleak.^ With