other s views and recrossed themselves. The dirty dubs upin their judges’ chambers, in the kookin. Phiz is me vulcanite smoking, profused Mr ‘Bonaparte Nolan’ under the inflounce of the Aquasancta Liffey Patrol to wind him by the shadow of a distinguished dynasty of his melovelance tells how when he is exalted and depressed, assembled and asundered; go away, we are born again and the rosegarden, boony noughty, all pura- puthry. Why? One’s apurr apuss a