expected from it a candleliked but Hayes, Conyngham and Erobin- son sware it’s an egg. Forglim mick aye! Stay, forestand and tillgive it! Remember the biter’s bitters I shed the vigil I buried our Harlotte Quai from poor Mrs Mangain’s of Britain Court on the sewingmachine. I’m sure I’m wrong but I abjure of it. Whoses wishes is the petty padre, whackling it out, a tumble to take, tripeness to call absolute zero or the portlifowlium of hastes and leisures, about to have down it. Pass out your cheeks, why daunt you! Penalty,