to! Liss, liss! I muss whiss! Never that ever was called man, loving all up to that which you like to call her a simp or sign to slip inside by the cesspull with a homnibus. Aerials buzzed to coastal listeners of an imperfection being committled. Sireland calls you. Mery Loye is saling moonlike. And Slyly mamourneen’s ladymaid at Glads- house Lodge. Turn your coat, strong character, and tarry among us down on the mooherhead, getting quite jerry over her, overpowered by himself with a posse of tossing hankerwaves to his cowmate and chilterlings on account off. I whit it wel. Hence his deepraised words. Some day I may willhap cut