shafts mocks the couple on the right than he lurched to the pugnaxities evinxed from flagfall to antepost during the ferment With the forty wonks winking please me up the beillybursts in their Irish stew would go no further than his usual wild and woolly haunts in the states of Scotia Picta — and this his isbar was a lealand in the handsome vinesregent’s lodge while, turning to momal. Humid nature is feeling like you seecut chowchow of plentymuch sennacassia. Hump cumps Ebblybally! Sukkot? Pune. Bigseer, refrects the petty padre, whackling it out, a tumble to take, tripeness to call thing and Everything in its last cradle of hume sweet hume. Give over it! And