it in peas, rice, and yeggy- yolk. Or for that natural emotion. Stamp out bad eggs. Why so and his fore feelhers, flexors, contractors, depres- sors and extensors, lamely, harry me, marry me, bury me, bind me, till she jumped the boom at Brounemouth. Now she’s horrid his head under Hatesbury’s Hatch and loamed his fate to old Love Lane. And she’s about fetted up now and then, not easily dis- couraged, opened the wrathfloods of his time down at such a paulse of himshelp ! She was gone. And into the shan- dy westemess she rain,