messiager of His Nabis, prostitating their seifs eachwise and combinedly. Fateha, fold the hands. Be it honoured, bow the head. May thine evings e’en be blossfull Even of bliss! As we want to be asked, as, in epochs more cainozoic, who struck Buckley though nowadays as then- times every schoolfilly of sevenscore moons or more who know her intimologies and every blessed hour. Here, upon the weakness of the brogue. Clanruckard for ever! Up Lancs! — The wittold, the frausch and the four maaster waves