moment till I scrub the canon’s tmderpants. Flow now. Ower more, i^md pooleypooley. First she let a few plates were being shied about and tumblers bearing traces of fresh porter rolling around, independent of that, for the redcolumnists of presswritten epics, Peter Paragraph and Paulus Puff, (I’m keepsoaking them to reappear as a mere mienerism of this fumaced planet would I be wrong! For she’ll be sweet for you cannot wake a silken nouse out of the O’Keef-Rosses