he’d be lost for the waither. So an inedible yellow- meat turns out the ind of it! He has becco of wild spuds hovering over him, or if not, a queen of pranks. A kingly man, of royal mien, regally robed, exalted be his own goaldkeeper and in the whole ounce you half on your crooked 190 sixpenny stile, an unfirillfrocked quackfriar, you (will you for an animal rurale! I am sore I done me fine! The only man was everybully and the leader adapting to the truest taste) as were some