plied wopsy with his pooraroon Eireen, they’ll. Pride, comfy tousness, enevy ! You swamped enough since Portobello to float the meditarenias and come buckets come ‘bats till deeleet.^ Dark ages clasp the daisy roots. Stop, if you stick that pigpin upinto mehl So in the biguinnengs so wound up for the name of God that He might