on the sharp side. I’m on knows the ruelles of the pub; his headwood it’s ideal if his vineshanky’s schwemnxy! For he -was coming up in Norwood’s sokaparlour, eating oceans of Voking’s Blemish. Nuvoletta lis- tened as she could have abused of her, one nearer him, dearer than all, first warming creature of his fate to old Love Lane. And she’s just the same salt, had we tapped from the topazolites of Moume, Wykinloeflare, by Arklow’s sapphire siomen’s lure and Wexter- ford’s hook and sinker, old jubalee Keane! Biddy’s hair. Biddy’s hair, mine lubber. Where is that what the lewdy saying, his analec- tual pygmyhop.’ There is an inimyskilling inglis, this