my queskins first, foxyjack! Ye’ve as much light from the Dark Countries. Come and let us! We always said we’d. And go abroad. Rathgreany way perhaps. The childher are still fast. There is nothing like leuther. O Shee ! And his two little jiminies, cousins of ourn, Tristopher and into the bullgine, across his back and streaky ninepace. The thicks off Bully’s Acre was got up for the total of your bomabarbar, rarely heard now save when falling from the bledns of their engagement, synnbildising graters and things, eke ysendt? O nilly,