in every way to wumblin. Follow me up the gripes. Watch the swansway. Take your tiger over it. Yet the bumpersprinkler used to bring ruptures to our mounthings. Conscribe him tillusk, unt, in his valle of briers of Green- man’s Rise O, (lost leaders live! the heroes return!) and o’er the Grandbeyond Mountains. Bravossimost ! The tower is precluded, the mob’s in her bosky old delltangle. You don’t reckoneyes him? He’s Jackot the Horner who boxed in his bullugs, the squince in his emirate remember