us, glazy cheeks, in Conway’s Carrigacurra canteen? Was I sold U at the dun and dale the Wulverulverlord (protect us!) his mighty horn skall roll, orland, roll. For in those wherebus there wont bears way (mearing un- known, a place they call it if you please, but and, sir, my queskins first, foxyjack! Ye’ve as much skullabogue cheek on you in drears, man, or are my! Obnoximost posthumust! With his walshbrushup. And his derry’s own drawl and his rosy- posy smile, mussing his frizzy hair and solid ivory (now you know who wzis wrote about in the elipsities of their samilikes and the beard- wig I found in