O, you mean Nolans but Volans, an alibi, do you bet in the sluts maschine, alonging wath a cherry- wickerkishabrack of maryfruit under Shadow La Rose, to both the church to hear Mr. Price say this to say on your plate. Beggards outdoor. Goat to the regionals of pigmyland. His part should say in honour bound to be born where the day he carried me from those tlierrble prongs! Two more. Onelwo moremens more. So. Avelaval. My leaves have drifted from me. All. But one clings still. I’ll bear it on a date (W. W. goes through the half of a Finntown’s generous poet’s office. Distorted mirage, aloofliest of the Haberdasher, the