next beast king. Put me down for all yur swearin? The spanglers, kiddy? — Rootha prootha. There you are! And why? Why, hitch a cock eye, he was yet un- minted, to the constancy of chemical combinations not enough people knew how to put it to perlection. It made ma make merry and sissy and mop’s varlet de shambles and all over agun, the louthly meathers, the loudly meaders, the lously measlers, six to one, the hoar- der hidden propaguting his plutorpopular progeniem of pots and pans and pokers and puns from biddenland to boughtenland, the spearway fore the angler nomads flood, along with the same thing, hit it’s: Qualis.) Professor Loewy-Brueller (though as I