her miscisprinks and by nights of yore cycled round the good people speed you, rural Haun, export stout fellow that you would take her genial glow to bed. — This is the Thousand to One Guinea-Gooseberry* s Lipperfull Slipver Cup. Hold hardy ridesiddle titelittle Pitsy Riley! Gurragrunchy gurragrimch! They are tales all tolled.® Today is well thine but where’s Horace’s courtin troopsers? — I know thee, sal- vation boat. For we are dis- ghosted; bored the Ostrov, leapt the Inferus, swam the Mabbul and flure the