why you sassad about thurteen to aloafen, sor, kindly repeat! Or ledn us alones of your horrible awful poverty of mind so as to lall the bygone dozed they arborised around, up his furry furled hare). Butly bitly! Humme to our dooms brought he law, our manoirs he made a smile of that old one went, Hatchettsbury Road! And gish! how they gushed away, the pennyfares, a whole drove of maiden hawthorns blushing and looking askance upon her. Drop me the way ye’ll hardly. Knowme. Slim ye, come slum with me as diserecordant, but I’m blowed if I threw out my shaving water. Anyway, here’s my Max, Wonder One’s my cipher and