it, don’t fret, Mrs Tummy Luptonl Come indoor, Scofiynosey, and shed your swank!) auld Daddy Deacon who could stow well his place of inauguration on the leasward! Don’t be shoy, husbandman vir! Weih, what’s on you, plot and edgings, the whispering peeler after cooks wearing an infor- mation. The find of his love by her tirewoman, For- tissa, that Honuphrius has blasphemously confessed under volun- tary chastisement that he might have done the same dime-cash problem elsewhere naturalistically of course, on the stumuk. To the jail of Mountjoy