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dianablowing, wild as wild, the mockingbird whose word is
misfortune, so 'tis said, the bulbul down the wind.
     The proto was traipsing through the tangle then, Mathew 
Walker, godsons' goddestfar, deputising for gossipocracy,
and his station was a few perch to the weatherside of the
knoll Asnoch and it was from no other place unless there, how
and ever, that he proxtended aloof upon the ether Mesmer's
Manuum, the hand making silence. The buckos beyond on the lea,
then stopped wheresoever they found their standings and that way
they set ward about him, doing obedience, nod, bend, bow and
curtsey, like the watchers of Prospect, upholding their broad-
awake prober's hats on their firrum heads, the travelling court on
its findings circuiting that personer in his fallen. And a crack quat-
youare of stenoggers they made of themselves, solons and psy-
chomorers, all told, with their hurts and daimons, spites and
clops, not even to the seclusion of their beast by them that was
the odd trick of the pack, trump and no friend of carrots. And,
what do you think, who should be laying there above all other
persons forenenst them only Yawn! All of asprawl he was laying
too amengst the poppies and, I can tell you something more than
that, drear writer, profoundly as you may bedeave to it, he was
oscasleep asleep. And it was far more similar to a satrap he lay there
with unctuous beauty all surrounded, the poser, or for whatall I
know like Lord Lumen, coaching his preferred constellations in
faith and doctrine, for old Matt Gregory, 'tis he had the [[starmenagerie|starmenag-
erie, Marcus Lyons and Lucas Metcalfe Tarpey and the mack
that never forgave the ass that lurked behind him, Jonny na
Hossaleen.
     More than their good share of their five senses ensorcelled 
you would say themselves were, fuming censor, the way they
could not rightly tell their heels from their stools as they cooched
down a mamalujo by his cubical crib, as question time drew
nighing and the map of the souls' groupography rose in relief
within their quarterings, to play tops or kites or hoops or marbles,
curchycurchy, gawking on him, for the issuance of his pnum and
softnoising one of them to another one, the boguaqueesthers.