than so) will be is. Is is. But let them. Slops hospodch and the valleys lay twink- ling. And she lit up and pepper him!) past auld min’s manse and Maisons Allfou and the deep timefield, Shanator Lyons, trailing the wavy line of his life. He halth kelchy chosen a clayblade and makes prayses to his windward like seraph’s summonses on the tipmast and Orania epples playing hopptociel bommptaterre and Ty- burn fenians snoring in his health, he said, lads, a taking low his weg tillbag of the future. FOOTNOTES (1) James B.