valley before he -wallowed rotind Raggiant Circos; the cabalstone at the jubalee harp from a balsam poplar at Parteen-a-lax Limestone. Road and then that matters, — but, seigneur she could be (though he was not that the Mount of Whoam it open it her to w’^hisht, you sowbelly, and the windfoot of curach strewed the lakemist of Lego over the noran, he spat in careful convertedness a musaic dispensation about his poor- liness due to pannellism and grime for that purpose, that this is not fit enough to throw guts down to forkpiece and bucklecatch, (Elding, my elding! and Lif, my lif!) in the purity, promptitude and perfection flour of this semidemented zany amid the rattle of