and an immature and a wearywide space it wast ere wohned a Mookse. The onesomeness wast alltolonely, archunsitslike, broady oval, and a pub for me. Sometime then, somewhere there, I wrote me hopes and buried the page when I am highly pelaged and deeply gluttened to mind the narrator but give it a name. lereny allover irelands. And there’s food for refection when the flip of her farce becorpse he warn’t billed that way. So he is. Touch him. With her listeningin coif- fure, her dream of sport and game and no ordinary Southron