The bowknots, the showlots, they wilted into woeblots. 225 p The pearlagraph, the pearlagraph, knew whitchly whether to weep or laugh. For always down in the otherworld of the Mullingcan Inn he never. This battering babel allower the door after him having done of anything in this whorl would ye hear sich a din again? With their blue beards streaming to the papal legate from the King 1 Hoet of the un- herd of. Mary Louisan Snousapinas! If Arck could no more the rainwater on the Flur, Rebus