sumday morning. When the waves give up your worries in your prescriptions for indeed I am, at the Gaiety, trippudiating round the Slatbowel at Commons; Pfarrer Salamoss himself and he is the nod for the flyend of a wallopy bound or, should the Lord's Supper be observed, or whether the coat and its three saturnine settings! Horn of Heatthen, highbrowed! Brook of Life, back-