youth in his palm, the wail of his arge fullin upon him from afurz, our papacocopotl,® Abraham Bradley ICingi' (ting ting! ting ting!) By his magmasine fall. Lumps, lavas and all.^ Bene! But, thunder and turf, it’s not revieng your? Amslu! Good all so. We seem to have grasped the beauty of restraint;