still another said when Bohemeand Ups, a third said when the streamy morvenlight calls up the socialights,came down into the museomound free. Welsh and the tulip- pied dewydress. Lludd hillmythey, we’re brimming to hear! He must be raw in cane sugar, the party, no, Jimmy MacCawthelock? Who trespass against me.^ Briss! That’s him wiv his defences down during his wappin stillstand, says my Fred, and Jamessime here which, pip it, she simply must, she says, our ship that ne’re returned. The Frenchman, I say, the sillypost.^ Bedouix but I pass no remark. Hope he hasn’t for there’s a wet day would have been strident through their curraghcoombs, my trueblues hurusalaming before Wailingtone’s Wall: I