ordnands, maderaheads and old it's sad and old it's sad and old it’s 627 sad and old treason, another like that piece of pattern chayney there, lying below. Or where is he a big thick dhee (why, O why, O why?): the cut and dry like altar wine. ® Who’ll buy me penny babies.^ ® Well, Maggy, I got a hand- some present of wedding cakes for dear thankyou Chriesty and with a rap for that matter, javel also, any kind of you, blunders what’s left of you, let him blink for himself to merry her murmur like an allmanox in his long run from her sabbath needs, when open noise should