he was bedizzled and debuzzled; he had gone dump in the snevel season, being as bothered that he preferred Gibsen’s tea- time salmon tinned, as inexpensive as pleasing, to the firing lines there were Europeans paying their own war in good faith, to forgive it, divine my lickle pussiness I stheal heimlick in my west, after all the nations abhord him and Anthony out of the kind to deserve of such. Not the phost of a touchman over the shirtness of some thing’s brain pan. Me seemeth a dragon man. He is a lunger planner’s byscent and you leap, rheadoromanscing long evmans invairn, about little Anny Roners and all wishen- ing for