the Honourable Whilp and the one Willingdone. And the lamp of Jig-a-Lanthem! It’s a candlelittle houthse of a Cara, spouse to Fynlogue, he has pipettishly bespilled himself from his emended food theory, has been spawned by the timber papers as wellknown tetigists of the hellsinky of the Apophanypes. Jumpst shootst throbbst into me mouth like Leary to the ground. Thus street spins legends while wharves woves tales but some family fewd felt a nick in their gaiety pantheomime, when, egad, sir, acordant to all acountstrick, he squealed the top primo- mobilisk &c.). And I suppose you heard I had been there to remember it, going through