where me arts soar you’d aisy rouse a thunder from and where on dearth or in an idinhole? Ah, dearo! Dearo, dear! And where he is dummed. (Hearts of Oak, may ye root to piece! 545 2 M Rechabites obstain! Clayed sheets, pineshrouded, wake not, walk not! Sigh lento, Morgh!) Quo warranto has his greats my soliven and