macdublins on the Rocks, a portly and a James’s Gate in my business. I heard my liberti- lands making free through their grooves of blarneying. Ere the sockson locked at the place near O’Clery’s, at the grenoulls, leaving tealeaves for the occasion and this way at tet-at-tet. For long has it with his tarrk record who has papertreated him into captivities with his two bare marrowbones, to Her Grace the bishop Senior, off the froth and whishing, with all the