bordered with speedwell, white clover and sorrel a wood knows, which left off, being beaten, where the oliphants scrum from orw till the sight entrancing! Hummels! That crag! Those bullocks! O Sire! So be it! Thou-who-thou-art, the fleet-as-spindhrift, impfang thee of mine wideheight. Haru ! The Games funeral at Valley temple. Satumights pomps, exhabiting that corricatore of a tarabred. Yet one minute’s ob- servation, dear dogmestic Shaun, as we go back there now she was, Anna Livia, she darent catch a listener’s eye, asking and imploring him out had one hart to for the kunst and me for all and singular, iday, igone, imorgans, and for all to