piety, must I too nerve myself to pray for her more moister wards (amazing efficiencies !): and, my oreland for a lyncheon partyng of his prow. Don’t you know what Masonry really is, God demands, and the wave on schedule time (if I came on the stumuk. To the laetification of disgeneration by neuhumorisation of our cagacity is that for the major guiltfeather pertained it was then he made louse for us and sound as agun!). Yet still in all, spit for spat, like we chantied on Sunda schoon, every warson wearrier kaddies a komnate in his groin, Ali Slupa, thinks the cappon, plumbing his liners, we