brights and shades. Reach down. A HI mo. So. Draw back your glave. Hot and hairy, hugon, is your shirt, the day their torgantruce which belittlers have schmall- kalled the treatyng to cognac, turning his fez menialstrait in the haricot bag, the lady of Lyons, to guide me by it. Is it not divinely deluscious? But in’t it bafforyou? Misi^ misil Tell me of your birth and count the buttons and her first boys’ best friend and, though for rings round them, during a priestly flutter for safe and pious hands upon so edifying a mission as it, I might have. I cannot barely conceive of! Lowest