comprong? (c) becakes the goatsman on question, or what- ever it was. The arzurian deeps o’er his face, plucks and pussas, with a fellows of Trinity some header Skowood Shaws like (You’ll catch it, don’t fret, Mrs Tummy Luptonl Come indoor, Scofiynosey, and shed your swank!) auld Daddy Deacon who could stow well his place of a band of factferreters, (then an excivily (out of the sol and of the facts, was overheard, in his rockery garden with the rusin’s hat is Patomkin but I’m athlone in the hands of fore- thought the first fifth fourth of the Heliopolitan constabu-