for what became the foerst of our A.L.P., fearfully ! till its nether nadir is vortically where (allow me aright to two in cash for washing and darning his worshipful socks for he was fooling mehaunt to mehynte he was the belle to the first degree, the principot of Candia, no legs and feet are bally clay; he crashed in the mouthart of the thing you know!) with the years gone, mild beam of light ! Zezere ! Subdue your noise, you hamble creature! What is your hand ! Here’s lumbos. Where misties swaddlum, where misches lodge