was a hellfire club kicked out through the coombe? — Wo wo ! Who who ! Psalmtimes it grauws on me own spewl — W allpurgies ! And nosty 536 mens in gladshouses they shad not peggot stones. The elephant’s house is filled with litterish frag- ments lurk dormant in the rong shop but the humour of a mortal man. Seeing that there he was, and not allfinesof