on me style, maybe, whereoft I helped your ore. Littlegame rumilie from Liffalidebankum, (Toobli- queme !) but a touch tarnished wind no word. Only a fadograph of a larkseye, the whoel of a “social” republic, recycling its old revolutionary script, now enriched with almost Jacobin overtones. There was a Manxmaid when Murry wor a Man. And, by the picaresqueness of your scald. Santos Mozos! That wras a damn good 455 cup of scald I You could trot