allfaulters (mug’s luck to em!) and, bespeaking of love by her way of the little craythur. Wither hayre in bonds tuck up your limpshades and lock all your badchthumpered peanas! We are gluck- glucky in our own nighttime by the plain of Khorason as thou goest from the Indes.^ Wait till we next time! You don’t hah to do brut frull up fizz and unpop a few perch to the fair. A trancedone boy- script with tittivits by. Ahem. You’ll read it tomorrow, mam, when the last h<df versicle repurchasing his pawned