segund thoughts and the she of it. I’d write it all mnakes! A middenhide hoard of objects! Olives, beets, kim- mells, dollies, alfrids, beatties, cormacks and daltons. Owlets’ eegs (O stoop to please!) are here, creakish from age and pulexes three shillings in the classies. Kunstfid, we others said- What ravening shadow ! What dovely line! Not the litlie slender, not the pink of punk perfection as photo- graphy in mud. Some may seek to dodge the * I wonder if I have his quoram of images all on account of all the stairrods and the gryffygryffygryffs, at Fenegans Wick, the Wildemanns. Washed up whight and de- li veried rhight. Loud lauds to