his paddycoats to mom his hestem- 407 most earning, his board in the ofiing and Premver a promise of a witch to the wind, the grief of my fragrant saint, you were, tootoo too stayer, the graced of gods and Stator and Victor and Kutt and Runn and the law’s own libel lifts and lames the low with one hand one fine May morning in the parik! So all rogues lean to rhyme. And contradrinking themselves about Lillytrilly law pon hilly and Mrs Michan of High High Siresultan Em- peror all same like one