| blushing like Pat's pig, begob! He's not too timtom well ashamed | 1 |
| to carry out onaglibtograbakelly in his showman's sinister the | 2 |
| testymonicals he gave his twenty annis orf, showing the three | 3 |
| white feathers, as a home cured emigrant in Paddyouare far be- | 4 |
| low on our sealevel. Bearer may leave the church, signed, Figura | 5 |
| Porca, Lictor Magnaffica. He's the sneaking likeness of us, faith, | 6 |
| me altar's ego in miniature and every Auxonian aimer's ace as | 7 |
| nasal a Romeo as I am, for ever cracking quips on himself, that | 8 |
| merry, the jeenjakes, he'd soon arise mother's roses mid bedew- | 9 |
| ing tears under those wild wet lashes onto anny living girl's | 10 |
| laftercheeks. That's his little veiniality. And his unpeppeppedi- | 11 |
| ment. He has novel ideas I know and he's a jarry queer fish be- | 12 |
| times, I grant you, and cantanberous, the poisoner of his word, | 13 |
| but lice and all and semicoloured stainedglasses, I'm enormously | 14 |
| full of that foreigner, I'll say I am! Got by the one goat, suckled | 15 |
| by the same nanna, one twitch, one nature makes us oldworld | 16 |
| kin. We're as thick and thin now as two tubular jawballs. I hate | 17 |
| him about his patent henesy, plasfh it, yet am I amorist. I love | 18 |
| him. I love his old portugal's nose. There's the nasturtium for | 19 |
| ye now that saved manny a poor sinker from water on the grave. | 20 |
| The diasporation of all pirates and quinconcentrum of a fake like | 21 |
| Basilius O'Cormacan MacArty? To camiflag he turned his shirt. | 22 |
| Isn't he after borrowing all before him, making friends with | 23 |
| everybody red in Rossya, white in Alba and touching every dis- | 24 |
| tinguished Ourishman he could ever distinguish before or be- | 25 |
| hind from a Yourishman for the customary halp of a crown and | 26 |
| peace? He is looking aged with his pebbled eyes, and johnnythin | 27 |
| too, from livicking on pidgins' ifs with puffins' ands, he's been | 28 |
| slanderising himself, but I pass no remark. Hope he hasn't the | 29 |
| cholera. Give him an eyot in the farout. Moseses and Noasies, | 30 |
| how are you? He'd be as snug as Columbsisle Jonas wrocked in | 31 |
| the belly of the whaves, as quotad before. Bravo, senior chief! | 32 |
| Famose! Sure there's nobody else in touch anysides to hold a | 33 |
| chef's cankle to the darling at all for sheer dare with that prison- | 34 |
| potstill of spanish breans on him like the knave of trifles! A jolly- | 35 |
| tan fine demented brick and the prince of goodfilips! Dave | 36 |