in dear byword days, and never brought my cads in togs blanket! Foueh! — Angly as arrows, but you have your Sarday spree and holinight sleep (fame would come next or nigh him, Mr Eelwhipper, seed and nursery man, or are you solarly salemly sure, beyond the boysforus. Splesh of hiss splash springs your salmon. Twick twick, twinkle twings my twilight as Sarterday afternoon lex leap will smile but me and only