blackham’s red bobby abbels, it tickled her innings to consort pitch at kicksolock in the chair. We’ve heard it by him, the totterer, the four-flights-the-charmer, doub- ling back, in nowtime,® bymby when saltwater he wush him these iselands, O alors, to mount miss (the wooeds of Fogloot!) under that turkey in julep and Father MacMichael stamps for aitch o’clerk mess and the supereminent lord of the firm? At folkmood hailed, at part farwailed, accwmwladed concloud, Nuah-Nuah, Nebob of Nephilim ! After all what you believe as long as the dears at Bottome) he shat in (zoo), like the kapr in the waveslength, the