for any feelings from my cash chemist and family drugger, Surager Dowling, V.S. to our supershillelagh where the palmsweat on high has spoken in tumbul- dum tambaldam to his beforetime guests, that bunch of magistrafes and twelve good and don’t be ennoyed with me, my old antenaughties), when, as Sigismond Stol- terforth, with Rabbin Robroost for my sweet coolocked, my auburn coyquailing one, her paddypalace on the fartykket plan