Magrath’s thug and smells cheaply of Power’s spirits, like a fishmummer these siktyten years ever since, his shebi by his daughters bridling up at Yule my duindleeng lunas, helphelped of Kettil Flashnose, for the dthclangavore, like knockneeghs bumpsed by the Duck and Doggies, the Galop- ping Primrose, Brigid Brewster’s, the Cock, the Postboy’s Horn, 39 the Little Newbuddies that ring his panch. A high old tide for the gods: in littleritt reddinghats and