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cuddling and kiddling her, after an oyster supper in Cullen's barn,
from under her mistlethrush and kissing and listening, in the good
old bygone days of Dion Boucicault, the elder, in Arrah-na-
pogue, in the otherworld of the passing of the key of Two-
tongue Common, with Nush, the carrier of the word, and with
Mesh, the cutter of the reed, in one of the farback, pitchblack
centuries when who made the world, when they knew O'Clery,
the man on the door, when they were all four collegians on the
nod, neer the Nodderlands Nurskery, whiteboys and oakboys,
peep of tim boys and piping tom boys, raising hell while the sin
was shining, with their slates and satchels, playing Florian's fables
and communic suctions and vellicar frictions with mixum mem-
bers, in the Queen's Ultonian colleges, along with another fellow,
a prime number, Totius Quotius, and paying a pot of tribluts
to Boris O'Brien, the buttler of Clumpthump, two looves, two
turnovers plus (one) crown, to see the mad dane ating his
vitals. Wulf! Wulf! And throwing his tongue in the snakepit. Ah
ho! The ladies have mercias! It brought the dear prehistoric
scenes all back again, as fresh as of yore, Matt and Marcus, natu-
ral born lovers of nature, in all her moves and senses, and after
that now there he was, that mouth of mandibles, vowed to pure
beauty, and his Arrah-na-poghue, when she murmurously, after
she let a cough, gave her firm order, if he wouldn't please mind,
for a sings to one hope a dozen of the best favourite lyrical
national blooms in Luvillicit, though not too much, reflecting on
the situation, drinking in draughts of purest air serene and re-
velling in the great outdoors, before the four of them, in the fair
fine night, whilst the stars shine bright, by she light of he moon,
we longed to be spoon, before her honeyoldloom, the plaint effect
being in point of fact there being in the whole, a seatuition so
shocking and scandalous and now, thank God, there were no more
of them and he poghuing and poghuing like the Moreigner
bowed his crusted hoed and Tilly the Tailor's Tugged a Tar in the
Arctic Newses Dagsdogs number and there they were, like a
foremasters in the rolls, listening, to Rolando's deepen darblun
Ossian roll, (Lady, it was just too gorgeous, that expense of a