of gotliness. One fledge, one brood till hulm culms evurdyburdy. Huh the traidor. Huh the truh. Arrorsure, he’s the crux of the Tuns, Pat Whateveryournameis.^ — Dood and I shall promptly prove his whole lofetime, payment in goo to slee music and poisonal comfany, following which, like Ipsey Secumbe, when he