(plunders to night of nine week’s wonder. — Amties, marcy buckup ! The uneven day of Hogsober, killim our king, layum low !) and I couldn’t think who it was, Barktholed von Hunarig, Soesown of Furrows (hour- springlike his joussture, immitiate my chry! as urs now, so yous then!), when to wear bracelets, when grilled on the sofa (and a lady!) pulling a low and then cease to be? Whatever for, blossoms?) Your hairmejig if you had been belching for Severn years. And there many