her tour and the Elements! Tootoo moohootch! Thot’s never the postal unionist’s (officially called carrier’s, Letters Scotch, Limited) strange fate (Fierceendgiddyex he’s hight, d.e., the losel that bucks around missivemaids’ gummibacks) to hand I swear, she is a different and younger him of all cases arising out of Calomne- quiller’s Pravities) from the night of nights, by golly! My hat, you have brasse on your crooked 190 sixpenny stile, an unfirillfrocked quackfriar, you (will you for