Jute. — Simply because as Taciturn pretel s, our wrongstory-shortener, he dumptied the

wholeborrow of rubba— ges on to soil here. Mutt. — Just how a puddinstone inat the brookcel s by a riverpool. Jute. — Load Al marshy! Wid wad for a norse like?

Mutt. — Somular with a bul on a clompturf. Rooks roarum rex roome! I could snore to him of the spumy horn, with his woolseley side in, by the neck I am sutton on, did Brian d’

of Linn.

Jute. — Boildoyle and rawhoney on me when I can beuraly forsstand a weird from sturk to finnic in such a pat-what as your rutterdamrotter. Onheard of and um— scene! Gut aftermeal! See you doomed. Mutt. — Quite agreem. Bussave a sec. Walk a dun blink roundward this albutisle and you skul see how olde ye plaine of my Elters, hunfree and ours, where wone to wail whimbrel to peewee o’er the saltings, where wilby citie by law of isthmon, where by a droit of signory, icefloe was from his Inn the Byggning to whose Finishthere Punct. Let erehim ruhmuhrmuhr. Mearmerge two races, swete and brack. Morthering rue. Hither, craching eastuards, they are in surgence: hence, cool at ebb, they requiesce. Countlessness of livestories have netherfal en by this plage, flick as flowflakes, litters from aloft, like a waast wizzard al of whirlworlds. Now are al tombed to the mound, isges to isges, erde from erde. Pride, O pride, thy prize!

Jute. — ‘Stench!

Mutt. — Fiatfuit! Hereinunder lyethey. Llarge by the smal an’ everynight life olso th’estrange, babylone the great-grandhotel ed with tit tit tittlehouse, alp on earwig, drukn on ild, likeas equal to anequal in this sound seemetery which iz leebez luv. Jute. — ‘Zmorde!

Mutt. — Meldundleize! By the fearse wave behoughted. Des-pond’s sung. And thanacestross mound have swol up them al .