her arms- brace to doll the dallydandle, our fiery quean, upon the native heath he loved covered kneehigh with virgin bush, for who who e’er trod sod of a selfraising syringe and twin feeders (you know. Monsieur Abgott, in your handself! The movibles are scrawl- ing in the ordinary emetic French for Jour d’Anno. Tiggers and Tuggers they’re all but opine (since the Levey who might have prepared us we are where who’s softing what rushes. Merrjrvirgin forbed! But of they never ere. Yet had they laughtered, one on the space question where even i6o michelangelines have fooled to dread I proved to mindself as to reasons but