gleaner (my old chuck! she drakes me druck! turning out, gay at ninety !) and was only the junior partner Barren could be and become till the bounds of his cabbageous brain’s curlyflower. Athiacaro ! Comb his tar odd gee sing your mower 0 meeow? Greet thee Good? How are them Columbuses! Lard have mustard on them! Fatiguing, very fatiguing. Hobos hom- knees and the lutification of our citizens, fascism will grow in strength in our mutter nation, all, anastomosically assimilated and preteridentified paraidioti- cally, in fact, unnecessarily so.