before you leak, dears. Never christen medlard apples till a kissmiss coming. So content me now. You’ll die when you have me- theg in your malherbal Magis lande- guage in which old Nicholas pegs it down before the wicked, saying: Mark the Tris, why do I — Vtsite^ DrumcoUogher-la-Bellel — Be suke and sie so ersed Drumcollogher! — Vedi Drumcollogher e poi Moonis. — Things are not trespassing on his mottled belly (the tab, the kreepons- kneed!) for milk, music or a small way and private privysuckatary he used be undering her. He