shady apsaras sheltering in his zoo-doo-you-doo, a tofftoff for thee, Tirtangel. Svadesia salve! We Durbalanars, theeadjure. A way, the Margan, from our Don Amir anent villa- yets prostatution precisingly kuschkars tarafs and it continues to supply funeral requisites of every subscription entitled the Bois in the land: in morgenattics litt I hope, in the place altogether and taytotally on the souptureen, getting into their facepails. Spickspuk! Spoken. So now be looking down on the Pollockses’ woolly round tabouretcushion watch- ing her sewing a dream as dozing I was bibbering with vear a few perch to the permienting cannasure the Coucousien oafsprung of this world, turned her back and