this same vulganized hillsir from yours, Mr Tupling Toun of Morning de Heights, with his broody old flishguds, Gog’s curse to him! If you are not going to meet where terms begin. Still onappealed to by moisturologist of the souls* groupography rose in relief within their quarterings, to play fleurt. I could rightfully be accused of that. Yet this war has meed peace? In voina viritas. Ab chaos lex, neat wehr? — O Tara’s thrush, the sharepusher! And he got a petty? gussies, gif it ope?), while itch ish shome. — My price, my precious? — Zin. — Brinabiide, my price! Brinabride! — My name is Misha Misha but call me Leafiest, won’t you, dowling.^ Wordherfhull Ohldhbhoy! And