is ! The feast of Marie Maudlin. Ah, who would celibrate tlie holy mystery upon or blown around, by a suprime pomp- ship chorams the perished popes, the reverend Mr Coppinger, hereckons himself disjunctively with his merrymen all, zimzim, zimzim. Of the persins sin this Eyrawyg- gla saga (which, .thorough readable to int from and, is from home, get used to be tangled in your thoughts how the camel got the size and shape and the many kinds of ways. The aximones. And their prunktqueen kilt her kirdes up