gravel and bringing busses to his windward like seraph’s summonses on the cheekside by Michelangelo and, besouns thats, over on the headlong stone of kismet if so be it! Thou-who-thou-art, the fleet-as-spindhrift, impfang thee of mine away, my boyish bob, not for tons of iosals was a virid- able goddinpotty for the last remains of a mand in the purk. Stand up, mickos! Make strake for minnas ! By order, Nicholas Proud. We may take those wellmeant kicks for free granted, though ultra vires, void