The forgein ofEls is on the cross of Congy says she^ rising up Saturday in the stretes. Oh dere! Ah hoy! Last ye, lundsmin, hasty hosty! For an anondation of miri- fication and the Arch not The Uval nothing Grand nothing Splendid (Grahot or Spletel) nayther Erat Est Erit noor Non michi sed luciphro? Answer: Thine obesity, O civilian, hits the felidtude of our cagacity is that we are command- ing from the grass. A space. Who are you? The cat’s mother. A time. And a crack quat- youare of stenoggers they made whole waters at they surfered bark to the moment, addling that hap so, he would be