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ing duties. Let besoms be bosuns. It's Phoenix, dear. And the
flame is, hear! Let's our joornee saintomichael make it. Since the
lausafire has lost and the book of the depth is. Closed. Come!
Step out of your shell! Hold up you free fing! Yes. We've light
enough. I won't take our laddy's lampern. For them four old
windbags of Gustsofairy to be blowing at. Nor you your ruck-
sunck. To bring all the dannymans out after you on the hike. Send
Arctur guiddus! Isma! Sft! It is the softest morning that ever I
can ever remember me. But she won't rain showerly, our Ilma. Yet.
Until it's the time. And me and you have made our. The sons of
bursters won in the games. Still I'll take me owld Finvara for my
shawlders. The trout will be so fine at brookfisht. With a taste
of roly polony from Blugpuddels after. To bring out the tang of
the tay. Is't you fain for a roost brood? Oaxmealturn, all out of
the woolpalls! And then all the chippy young cuppinjars clutter-
ing round us, clottering for their creams. Crying, me, grownup
sister! Are me not truly? Lst! Only but, theres a but, you must
buy me a fine new girdle too, nolly. When next you go to Market
Norwall. They're all saying I need it since the one from Isaacsen's
slooped its line. Mrknrk? Fy arthou! Come! Give me your great
bearspaw, padder avilky, fol a miny tiny. Dola. Mineninecy-
handsy, in the languo of flows. That's Jorgen Jargonsen. But you
understood, nodst? I always know by your brights and shades.
Reach down. A lil mo. So. Draw back your glave. Hot and hairy,
hugon, is your hand! Here's where the falskin begins. Smoos as
an infams. One time you told you'd been burnt in ice. And one
time it was chemicalled after you taking a lifeness. Maybe that's
why you hold your hodd as if. And people thinks you missed the
scaffold. Of fell design. I'll close me eyes. So not to see. Or see only
a youth in his florizel, a boy in innocence, peeling a twig, a child be-
side a weenywhite steed. The child we all love to place our hope in
for ever. All men has done something. Be the time they've come to
the weight of old fletch. We'll lave it. So. We will take our walk
before in the timpul they ring the earthly bells. In the church
by the hearseyard. Pax Goodmens will. Or the birds start their
treestirm shindy. Look, there are yours off, high on high! And