| took a brief one in his shirtsails out of the alleged given mineral, | 1 |
| telling me see his in Foraignghistan sambat papers Sunday feac- | 2 |
| tures of a welcomed aperrytiff with vallad of Erill Pearcey O | 3 |
| he never battered one eagle's before paying me his duty on my | 4 |
| annaversary to the parroteyes list in my nil ensemble, in his lazy- | 5 |
| chair but he hidded up my hemifaces in all my mayarannies and | 6 |
| he locked plum into my mirrymouth like Ysamasy morning in | 7 |
| the end of time, with the so light's hope on his ruddycheeks and | 8 |
| rawjaws and, my charmer, whom I dipped my hand in, he simply | 9 |
| showed me his propendiculous loadpoker, Seaserpents hisses | 10 |
| sissastones, which was as then is produced in his mansway by | 11 |
| this wisest of the Vikramadityationists, with the remere remind | 12 |
| remure remark, in his gulughurutty: Yran for parasites with rum | 13 |
| for the turkeycockeys so Lithia, M.D., as this is for Snooker, | 14 |
| bort! | 15 |
Which was said by whem to whom? | 16 |
It wham. But whim I can't whumember. | 17 |
Fantasy! funtasy on fantasy, amnaes fintasies! And there is | 18 |
| nihil nuder under the clothing moon. When Ota, weewahrwificle | 19 |
| of Torquells, bumpsed her dumpsydiddle down in her woolsark | 20 |
| she mode our heuteyleutey girlery of peerlesses to set up in all | 21 |
| their bombossities of feudal fiertey, fanned, flounced and frangi- | 22 |
| panned, while the massstab whereby Ephialtes has exceeded is the | 23 |
| measure, simplex mendaciis, by which our Outis cuts his thruth. | 24 |
| Arkaway now! | 25 |
Yerds and nudes say ayes and noes! Vide! Vide! | 26 |
Let Eivin bemember for Gates of Gold for their fadeless | 27 |
| suns berayed her. Irise, Osirises! Be thy mouth given unto thee! | 28 |
| For why do you lack a link of luck to poise a pont of perfect, | 29 |
| peace? On the vignetto is a ragingoos. The overseer of the house | 30 |
| of the oversire of the seas, Nu-Men, triumphant, sayeth: Fly as | 31 |
| the hawk, cry as the corncrake, Ani Latch of the postern is thy | 32 |
| name; shout! | 33 |
My heart, my mother! My heart, my coming forth of | 34 |
| darkness! They know not my heart, O coolun dearast! Mon | 35 |
| gloomerie! Mon glamourie! What a surpraise, dear Mr Preacher, | 36 |