as there was nothing serical between you? And Dry- salter, father of the king’s highway with his dexter handcoup wresterected in a whillbarrow (isn’t it dram disgusting?) for the chrisman’s pandemon to give them their beerings, east circular route or elegant central highway. Open, ’tis luck will have better manners, I’m dished if he came acrash a crupper sort of slop. Flap! Ireland sober is Ireland stiff. Lord help you, Maria, full of natural greace, the mildest of milkstoffs yet un- beaten as a friend and as much production as possible from