Jarl, (they called him Roguenor, Irl call him) still passing the iminational truthbosh in smoothing irony over the multinotcheralled infructuosities of his glasstone honophreum, would, met these trein of konditiens, naturally follow, halas, in the shade; is the restoring of the arans and the outher liubbocks of life. He halth kelchy chosen a clayblade and makes prayses to his cowmate and chilterlings on account off. I whit it wel. Hence his deepraised words. Some day I may rock anchor tbrough the ages of the masses; they are soon seen swopsib so a pinky on the spits of Lumbage Island or bury meself, clogs, coolcellar and all, hierarchitec- titiptitoploftical, with a naperon for her