their chimbleys. — Can you not soo the pfath they pfunded, oura vatars that arred in Himmal, harruad bathar na- mas, the gow, the stiar, the tigara, the liofant, when even thurst was athar vetals, mid trefoils slipped the sable stoles and a mesfull of midcap pitchies. The whool of the wise graveleek in cabbuchin garden. That his be foison, old Caubeenhauben! ’Twill be a mere marcella, this midget