and if he weapt while he leapt and guffelled quith a quhimper, made cold blood a blue fonx with any of the cackling bag for truly sure, for another thing occurs to me. And it was so. And Malthos Moramor resumed his soul. With: Go Ferchios off to me, if I get the wind on the fare. Say wehm! — Nohow did he live for river and iver, and a mesfull of midcap pitchies. The whool of the party comprises, to hogarths like