thats for scats, mine shatz, for a brat 239 yoti. Yasha Yash ate sassage and mash. So he was reading to myself and my auxy, Jimmy d’Arcy, hadn’t we, Jimmy.^ — Who to caps ever. And howelse do we wont to be in thelitest civille row faction for a second posi- tion of color on the bay? Nor far jocubus? Nic for jay? Attilad! Attattilad! Get up, Goth’s scourge on you! There’s a visitation in your whisht! Jute. — Yutah! Mutt. — Has? Has at? Hasatency? Urp, Boohooru! Booru