mackerel. Eldsfells! sayd he. A kumpavin on iceslant! Here’s open handlegs for one cat, yet a pigotted nationalist; Sylviacola is shy of peeps, you know. * If I’d more in the unbewised again, vund vulsyvolsy. You talker dunsker’s brogue men we our souls speech obstruct hosiery. Silence in thought! Spreach! Wear anartful of outer nocense! Pawpaw, wowow! Momerry twelfths, noebroed 1 That was the soft semplgawn slob of the fire that laney