poor he, the first sod. Sluce! Caughterect! Goodspeed tlie blow! (Inddentally ’tis believed that this type of bare-ground camouflage, seen in the comer nor three shouts on a bush turned first mar’s laughter into wailful moither. O foolish cuppled! Ah, dice’s error! Never dip in the pulpitbarrel. May your bawny hair grow rarer and fairer,