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Here let a few artifacts fend in their own favour. The river felt 
she wanted salt. That was just where Brien came in. The country
asked for bearspaw for dindin! And boundin aboundin it got it
surly. We who live under heaven, we of the clovery kingdom,
we middlesins people have often watched the sky overreaching
the land. We suddenly have. Our isle is Sainge. The place. That
stern chuckler Mayhappy Mayhapnot, once said to repeation
in that lutran conservatory way of his that Isitachapel-Asitalukin
was the one place, ult aut nult, in this madh vaal of tares (whose
verdhure's yellowed therever Phaiton parks his car while its
tamelised tay is the drame of Drainophilias) where the possible
was the improbable and the improbable the inevitable. If the pro-
verbial bishop of our holy and undivided with this me ken or no
me ken Zot is the Quiztune havvermashed had his twoe nails
on the head we are in for a sequentiality of improbable possibles
though possibly nobody after having grubbed up a lock of cwold
cworn aboove his subject probably in Harrystotalies or the vivle
will go out of his way to applaud him on the onboiassed back of
his remark for utterly impossible as are all these events they are
probably as like those which may have taken place as any others
which never took person at all are ever likely to be. Ahahn!
    About that original hen. Midwinter (fruur or kuur?) was in the 
offing and Premver a promise of a pril when, as kischabrigies sang
life's old sahatsong, an iceclad shiverer, merest of bantlings ob-
served a cold fowl behaviourising strangely on that fatal midden
or chip factory or comicalbottomed copsjute (dump for short)
afterwards changed into the orangery when in the course of
deeper demolition unexpectedly one bushman's holiday its limon
threw up a few spontaneous fragments of orangepeel, the last
remains of an outdoor meal by some unknown sunseeker or place-
hider illico way back in his mistridden past. What child of a strand-
looper but keepy little Kevin in the despondful surrounding of
such sneezing cold would ever have trouved up on a strate that
was called strete a motive for future saintity by euchring the
finding of the Ardagh chalice by another heily innocent and
beachwalker whilst trying with pious clamour to wheedle Tip-