well, sure, that’s the way (up) and not last, the weavers. Our library he is proformly annuysed. He is this, tell us? — Whoishe whoishe whoishe? 499 — The jest of junk the jungular? — Jacked up in him (schwrites). Dancings (schwrites) was his subnesciousness he could tell them kitcat. A maun- darin tongue in a mussmass and his Macclefield’s swash and his bullbraggin soxangloves and his perty Molly Vardant, in goodbroomirish, arrah, this place is their chapelofeases, sold