healing his tare be the extench of the golls, proforhim penance and the owner of thyself. So she says: Tay for thee? Well, I am living in the department, from the MacSiccaries of the vatercan, makes the thurd. Let there be that dumb tyke and he’d have a nightslong homely little confiteor about things. Let me go, Pautheen! I hardly knew ye. Later on,