|aEven should not the framing |bupb| of such fictions |bin the evidential orderb| bring any truth to light |bin good timeb| as fortuitously as some false setting of a starchart might |b(heaven aiding)b| reveal the presence of an unknown being in |bspace chaos of spaceb|a| The |abest soundesta| opinion now holds that by so playing possum our highest common ancestor most effectually saved his brush. Dogs of all breeds were speaking with |avarious markeda| provincial accents, hot to run him |aon a scent breasthigha|, but from the good |adaya| he last was viewed pointing for home |ain his 7mile |brolltopb| bootsa| a deaf fox's wisdom kept him safe in covert |amiraculously ravenfed & sustained by the clotted creamclotted sherriness of cinnamon syllabuba|. Preserving perseverance |ain the reeducation of his intestinesa| was |athe best |bhis best theb|a| rebuttal whereby he got the big bulge on |aall the crowd of spasoakersa| in that one street town. Vainly virulence, violence & vituperation sought |awellnigh utterlya| to end the reign of the great shipping mogul and linen lord; it was one |amorea| dearer than all who was to make him |aa thea| nine days' jeer |afor the lounge lizardsa| of the pumproom.
He had laid violent hands on himself|a, lain down, fagged out, with equally melancholy deatha|. He had left the country by via a subterranean tunnel
|a|blined shoredb| with bedboardsa|. |aAn infamous private ailment
|b(variovenereal) (variolovenereal)b| had claimed him. He had walked into a pond while intoxicated up to that point where
|bbraces meet buttons braced skirts meet knickerbockersb|. |bTen Theb|
helping hands |bof fiveb| had rescued him from seven feet of semifresh water. Aerials |breported the buzzed of
ab| finding of a bloody |bantichill cloakb| with a tailor's tab reading V.P.H. & all shivered to think what beast
had devoured him.a| The black hand had done him in. On his postern had been nailed the title: Move up, Dumpty. Make room for Humpty! |aand this time no mistake
the boys had done him ina|. Indeed several wellwishers |abought went so far as
to buya| copies of the evening editions just to make sure whether he was genuinely |aquitea| dead. But on
the morrow morn of |asuicide the suicidal murder |bunrescuedb|a| & expatriated half past
|aeight ¼ to 9a| o'clock saw the unfailing
spike of smoke plume punctual from his chimneypipe 7th gable and ten thirsty p.m.|a, the lamps of maintenance lighted for the long night,a| a suffusion of the leadlight panes.
|aTherefore let it be neither said nor thought that the inhabitant of that sacred edifice was a parable merely nor |bmore strictlyb| h H.C.E a nonens. Not one of his many contemporaries seriously doubted or for long of his |breal legitimateb| existence.a|
Who then was the scourge of Lucalizod?, it was wont to be asked, as |a|bonce long ages behindb|a| |awhat became of where isa| Peabody's money |aor and |b|clater later in time more to the pointc|b|a| who shot Buckley though every schoolgirl knows |athat by now howa| it was Buckley who shot and |ahow it wasa| the Russian general & not Buckley who was shot? What |afullpaya| poisonivy pry, |aora| which hatefilled woman? And that such |avarious vitriol ofa| venom a quiet stamp could cover!