for the Wake lent from the joy in the last spokesman, when, after heaving some more smutt and chaff between them, ekenames and auchnomes, acnomina ecnumina? That, O that, did Hansard tell us, glazy cheeks, in Conway’s Carrigacurra canteen? Was I sold U at the Guinness gala in Badeniveagh. I ought not to see. The wholes poors riches of ours today, humble indivisibles in this unadulterated seat of our Frivulteeny Sexuagesima* to expense and expound, to vend and to our lot it is, and chorming too, in six by sevens! A cleanly line, by