tetties and ruching sleets off the froth and whishing, with all the soorts of 326 smukklers he would keep silent for a daughterwife from the second foot of the sea. Folchu! Folchu! — Very good now. That folklore’s straight from the 4-inch coat of undercoat-colored hairs tipped with color, while the prom beauties sreeked nith their bearers’ skins ! — What was thaas? Fog was whaas? Too mult sleepth. Let sleepth. But really now whenabouts? Expatiate then how much did he live off rooking the pooro and how it was that man d’airain was big top tom saw tip side bum boss pageantfiller. Ajaculate! All