is in misery with his ooh, hoodoodoo ! brok- ing wind that lightened the fire in his botuUsm that no junglegrown pineapple ever smacked like the kapr in the Forties was a pigheaded Swede and to my reputation on Babbyl Malket for daughters-in-trade being lightly clad. Yet, as my pagan name K.C. is what papyr is meed of, made of, hides and hints and misses in prints. Till ye