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[[Page 441]] [[Page 443]]

 from the eligible ministriss for affairs with the black fremdling,
 that enemy of our country, in a cleanlooking light and I don't
 care a tongser's tammany hang who the mucky is nor twoo
 hoots in the corner nor three shouts on a hill (were he even
 a constantineal namesuch of my very own, Attaboy Knowling,
 and like enoch to my townmajor ancestors, the two that are
 taking out their divorces in the Spooksbury courts circuits,
 Rere Uncle Remus, the Baas of Eboracum and Old Father
 Ulissabon Knickerbocker, the lanky sire of Wolverhampton,
 about their bristelings), but as true as there's a soke for sakes in
 Twoways Peterborough and sure as home we come to [[newsky prospect|newsky]]
 [[newsky prospect|prospect]] from west the wave on schedule time (if I came any
 quicker I'll be right back before I left) from the land of breach
 of promise with Brendan's mantle whitening the Kerribrasilian
 sea and March's pebbles spinning from beneath our footslips to
 carry fire and sword, rest insured that as we value the very name
 in sister that as soon as we do possibly it will be a poor lookout
 for that insister. He's a markt man from that hour. And why do
 we say that, you may query me? Quary? Guess! Call'st thou?
 Think and think and think, I urge on you. Muffed! The wrong
 porridge. You are an ignoratis! Because then probably we'll
 dumb well soon show him what the Shaun way is like how we'll
 go a long way towards breaking his outsider's face for him for
 making up to you with his bringthee balm of Gaylad and his
 singthee songs of Arupee, chancetrying my ward's head into
 sanctuary before feeling with his two dimensions for your nup-
 tial dito. Ohibow, if I was Blonderboss I'd gooandfrighthisdual-
 man! Now, we'll tell you what we'll do to be sicker instead of
 compensation. We'll he'll burst our his mouth like Leary to the
 Leinsterface and reduce he'll we'll ournhisn liniments to a
 poolp. Open the door softly, somebody wants you, dear! You'll
 hear him calling you, bump, like a blizz, [[in the muezzin of the turkest night|in the muezzin of the]]
 [[in the muezzin of the turkest night|turkest night]]. Come on now, pillarbox! I'll stiffen your scribeall,
 broken reed! That'll be it, [[grand operoar style]], even should I,
 with my sleuts of hogpew and cheekas, have to coomb the brash
 of the libs round [[Close Saint Patrice]] to lay my louseboob on his