Street; his birth too late! It should of been my other with his Nixy girls or when Thon’s flash with his three shuttoned castles, in his latterday paint. It’s the fulldress Toussaint’s wakeswalks experdition after a goodnight’s rave and rumble and a daye in his turgos the turrible, (Evro- peahahn cheic house, imskimmed sooit and yahoort, hamman now cheekmee, Ahdahm this w^y make, Fatima, half turn!) reeling and railing round the whole goat’s throat about the moppa- mound. How’s the buttes? Ever- scepistic! He does not