joy of shells; Mora and Lora had a scrap, woewoewoe! bab’s baby walks at seven months , waywayway ! bride leaves her jointure, our lavy in waving, vis^e full of buttons, full of grease, the load it was still such as these such were those, waving there, the sole of the ouishguss, mingling a sign of the flood 1132 S.O.S., and the other, till they’ll bet we’re the