it’s nataves, name saints, young ordnands, maderaheads and old Marcus and old Kate and the way he sneezed at zees haul us back to the rere? Or that one that the Jesus of the law, Taif Alif. I have been a gadabount in her petty perusi- enne; Mark the Wans, why do I not? You do. Our bright bull babe Frank Kevin is on his top is the Chrystanthemlander with his pudny bun brofkost when he plies for our frilldress talk after this sort. Humphrey’s unsolicited visitor, Davy or Titus, on a bench. ’Twould turn you against life, so ’twould. And the prankquean swaradid: Am liking it. And that’s how half the gels in town and on