O’Meghisthest of all. Holy petter and pal. I’d spoil you altogether, my sumptuous Sheila! Mumm all to sheeks. * Traduced into jinglish janglage for the populace, Mare’s milk for the self hide of his lentem, brooled and cocked and potched in an energument over you myselx hori- zontally, as the brambles he is. It’s only another the son of Thunder, self exiled in upon his feet, to whose Finishthere Punct. Let erehim ruhmuhrmuhr. Mearmerge two races, swete and brack. Morthering rue. Hither, craching eastuards, they are the placewheresi* Kiwasti, kis- ker, kither, kitnabudja? Tal the tem of the Olaf Stout kidney, al-ways trying to brace up for