Page 489

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Yet be there some who mourn him, concluding him dead,
and more there be that wait astand. His fuchs up the staires
and the ladgers in his haires, he ought to win that V.V.C.
Fullgrapce for an endupper, half muxy on his whole! Would
he were even among the lost! From ours bereft beyond be-
longs. Oremus poor fraternibus that he may yet escape the
gallews and still remain ours faithfully departed. I wronged you.
I never want to see more of bad men but I want to learn from
any on the airse, like Tass with much thanks, here's ditto, if
he lives sameplace in the antipathies of austrasia or anywhere
with my fawngest on his hooshmoney, safe and damned, or
has hopped it or who can throw any lime on the sopjack,
my fond fosther, E. Obiit Nolan, The Workings, N.S.W.,
his condition off the Venerable Jerrybuilt, not belonging to
these parts, who, I remember ham to me, when we were like
bro and sis over our castor and porridge, with his roamin I
suppose, expecting for his clarenx negus, a teetotum abstainer.
He feels he ought to be as asamed of me as me to be ashunned of
him. We were in one class of age like to two clots of egg. I am
most beholding to him, my namesick, as we sayed it in our Am-
harican, through the Doubly Telewisher. Outpassed hearts wag
short pertimes. Worndown shoes upon his feet, to whose re-
dress no tongue can tell! In his hands a boot! Spare me, do, a
copper or two and happy I'll hope you'll be! It will pleased
me behind with thanks from before and love to self and all I
remain here your truly friend. I am no scholar but I loved that
man who has africot lupps with the moonshane in his profile,
my shemblable! My freer! I call you my halfbrother because
you in your soberer otiumic moments remind me deeply of my
natural saywhen brothel in feed, hop and jollity, S. H. Devitt,
that benighted irismaimed, who is tearly belaboured by Sydney
and Alibany.
     — As you sing it it's a study. That letter selfpenned to one's 
other, that neverperfect everplanned?
     — This nonday diary, this allnights newseryreel. 
     — My dear sir! In this wireless age any owl rooster can peck