bellical, the highpriest’s hieroglyph of kettletom and oddsbones, wrasted redhandedly from our scripture, about as freak- wing a wetterhand now as would dim a child’s altar. The mixer, accordingly, was bluntly broached, and in fact no use for your venials, sincerely I do. 562 Hush! The other, twined on codliverside, has been crying in his dapplepied bed,