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layen loves in meeingseeing, he got the charm of his optical
life when he found himself (hic sunt lennones!) at pointblank
range blinking down the barrel of an irregular revolver of
the bulldog with a purpose pattern, handled by an unknown
quarreler who, supposedly, had been told off to shade and
shoot shy Shem should the shit show his shiny shnout out
awhile to look facts in their face before being hosed and creased
(uprip and jack him!) by six or a dozen of the gayboys.
    What, para Saom Plaom, in the names of Deucalion and 
Pyrrha, and the incensed privy and the licensed pantry gods
and Stator and Victor and Kutt and Runn and the whole mesa
redonda of Lorencao Otulass in convocacaon, was this dis-
interestingly low human type, this Calumnious Column of
Cloaxity, this Bengalese Beacon of Biloxity, this Annamite Aper
of Atroxity, really at, it will be precise to quarify, for he seems
in a badbad case?
    The answer, to do all the diddies in one dedal, would sound: 
from pulling himself on his most flavoured canal the huge chest-
house of his elders (the Popapreta, and some navico, navvies!)
he had flickered up and flinnered down into a drug and drunkery
addict, growing megalomane of a loose past. This explains the
litany of septuncial lettertrumpets honorific, highpitched, erudite,
neoclassical,which he so loved as patricianly to manuscribe after
his name. It would have diverted,if ever seen,the shuddersome
spectacle of this semidemented zany amid the inspissated grime
of his glaucous den making believe to read his usylessly unread-
able Blue Book of Eccles, édition de ténèbres, (even yet sighs the
Most Different, Dr. Poindejenk, authorised bowdler and censor,
it can't be repeated!) turning over three sheets at a wind, telling
himself delightedly, no espellor mor so, that every splurge on the
vellum he blundered over was an aisling vision more gorgeous
than the one before t.i.t.s., a roseschelle cottage by the sea for
nothing for ever, a ladies tryon hosiery raffle at liberty, a sewer-
ful of guineagold wine with brancomongepadenopie and sick-
cylinder oysters worth a billion a bite, an entire operahouse
(there was to be stamping room only in the prompter's box and