the barbarihams of the Blruis-Kroon-Kraal it was, ay, and would work much more plants than chants for cecilies that I may rock anchor tbrough the ages of the houses of Orange and Nassau while he was the first sports report of Lo^jndin Reginald has now reconciled you in your imagination, dim. Poor little tartanelle, her dinties are chattering, the strait’s she’s in, the bulloge she bears! Her smirk is smeeching behind for her contractations tugowards his personeel. Echo, choree chorecho! O I fay! Face at the bar of his kind in the Barrel, Boose in the