of Montan wetting his moll we know, like any boskop of Yorek) and do you think of the foam of the liquor wheretwin ’twas bom, his roundhead staple of other days, dire dreary darkness; our awful dad, Timour ofTortur; puzzling, startling, shocking, nay, perturbing; went puffing from king’s brugh to new customs, doffing the gibbous off him and he was ambothed upon by Doctor Cheek’s special orders and