Shutmup. And bud did doom well right. And if he sung dumb in his glass darkly speech lit face to face on all around.
|3⇒ Vociferagitant. Viceversounding. Beauty's bath she's bound to bind beholders and Prideº, his purge, has place appoint in penance and the
law's own libel lifts and lames the low with the lofty. Be of the housed! |aWhile the Hersy Huntº they harrow the hill |bforb| to rout them rollicking rogues from, rule |bthem thoseb| racketeer romps from, rein their rockery rides from. Rambling.a|3|
— That is |3too too3| true enough in Solidan's Islamd as in Moltern Giaourmany, and from the Amalekins off to date back to land of engined Egypsians, assented from his opening before his inlookers of where an oxmanstongue stalled stabled, the
wellnourished one, lord of the seven days, overlord of sats and suns, the sat of all the suns which are in the ring of his system of the sats of his sun, god of the scuffeldfallen skillfilledfelon who (he contaimns) hangsters, who (he constrains) hersirrs, the topside humpy up stummock atween his showdows fellah, Misto Teewiley Spillitshops, who keepeth watch in Khummer-Phett, whose spouse is
An-Livph, the dog's bladder, warmer of his couch in fore. We all have been |3nobbut3| wonterers in that |3chill3| childerness which is
our true name after the allfaulters (mug's luck to em!) and, bespeaking of love and lie detectors in venuvarities, whateither the drugs truth of it was
there an iota omicrone from the faust to the lost. And that is at most redoubtedly an overthrew of each and ilkermann of us, I persuade myself, |3before Gow,3| gentlemen, so true as this are my kopfinpot astrode on these is my boardsoldereds.
It sollecited, |3grobbling hummley,3| his roundhouse of seven orofaces, of all, guiltshouters or crimemummers, |3to be sayd by, codnops,3| advices for, free of gracies, scamps encloded, competitioning them, if they had steadied Jura or when they had raced Messafissi, husbond of your wifebetter or bestman botchalover of you yourself, how comes ever a body in our taylorised world to selve out thishis, whither it gives a primeum nobilees |3for our notomize3| or naught, the farst wriggle from the ubivence, whereom is man, that old offender, nother man, wheile he is asame. And fullexampling. The pints in question. With some byspills. And sicsecs to provim hurtig. Soup's on!
— I have just (let us suppraise) been reading in a (suppressed) book — it is notwithstempting by meassures long and limited: the latterpress is eminently legligible and the paper so |3he3| eagerly seized upon has scarsely been
buttered in works of previous publicity. Enough, however, have I read of it |3like my good bedst friend3| to augur in the hurry of the times that it will |3commend cocommend3| the widest circulation and a reputation coextensive with its merits when inthrusted into safe and pious hands upon so edifying a mission as it, I can see, as is his. It is ambullished with expurgative plates replete in information and accampaigning the action passim, |3slapbangº, whizzcrash, boomarattling from burst to past3| as I have just been seeing, with my wormest venerections, of a |3timmersome3| townside upthecountrylifer, allthose everwhalmed upon that preposterous blank seat, before the wordcraft of this early woodcutter, |3a master of all vignettiennes,
and ourº findest |agrobsmith grobsmida| among all their |saorefices oreficissa|,º3| Mr Aubeyron Birdslye. |3There is one which I have pushed my finker in for the movement and she is deepl highly catatheristic and there is another which I have fomblyº fongered |afreequuntlya| and she is deeply sangnificant. What ravening shadow! What dovely line!3| And whilst (when I doot my sliding panel and I hear cawcaw) I have been idylly turning over the loose looves leaflefts |3jaggledº3| casuallty on the lamatory, as is my this is, often, so far as I can chance to recollect from them some farnights ago, when I, if you will excuse for me this informal leading down of illexpressibles, enlivened toward the Author of Nature by the natural sins |3liggen theirs3| before me, weathered they be of a general golf stature|3, assasserted,3| or blossomly emblushing themselves underneed of some howthern folleys, am entrenched
up contemplating of myself, wiz my naked I, for relieving purposes in our trurally virvir vergitabale (garden) I sometimes, maybe, what has justly said of old Flannagan a wake from this or huntsfurwards, with some shock (shell I so render
it?) have (when I ope my shylight window and I see coocoo) a notion quiet involuptary of that I am cadging hapsnots as at murmurrandoms of distend renations |3and from3| ficsimilar phases|3, or3| dugouts in the behindscenes of our earthwork |3(what rovining shudder! what deadly loom!)3|, as this is, at no spatial time processly which regards to concrude chronology about which in fact, at spite of I having belittled myself to my |3gay3| giftname of insectarian happy burgages abeyance would make homesweetstown hopey goalucrey, my mottu propprior, as I claim|3, cad's truck,3| I coined, I am wholly pelaged to see by their loudest reports from my bottery parts (shsh!) that, columbophile and corvinophobe alike, when I have regrouped myself |3cad's truck,3| after my contractual expanditures, I, |3my good grief,3| I am, I am big alltoogooder.
From whose plultibust preaggravated |3byº baskatchairch theologies3|, they were whoalike placed to
say|3|x, with bears' respects to him |aanda| bulls' acknowledgments x|3|,
|3disassembling and3| taking him apart, |3the slammocks, |awith
a discrimination for his maypole and a rub in passingº over his hump,a|3| frons, fesces and frithstool: 1) he hade to
die it 2) he didhithim self 3) all ever he huntered |3with bullpen backthought since he took human life3| was forsake in his chiltern and
lumbojumbo 4) he was |3like Fintan fore flood and after3| sometimes too damned merely often on the saved side, saw he was 5) he
|3was wassand3| no better than he should have been before he could have been
better than what he |3was warrant3| after 6) he's the same old dustamount on the same old tincoverdull bauble class|3, totstittywinktosserº and bairnsbagwindburster,3| but what we warm to hear|3, jef,3| is the woods of chirpsies cries to singaloo sweecheeriode and sock him up, the old cant rogue.
You have jest (a ham) beamed listening through (a ham pig) his haulted excerpt from John Whitton's production, |3The Coach The Coach3| |3With The Six Insides With The Six Insides3|, all souled. Goes Tory by Eeric Whiggs is To Become Tintinued in Fearson's Nightly in the Lets All Wake Brickfaced In Lucan. Lhirondella, jaunty lhirondella! With tirra lirra rondinelles atantivy we go.
Attention! Stand at!! Ease!!!
We are now diffusing among our wordless lovers of this sequence (toyou! toyou!) the dewfolded song of the naughtingels (Alys! Alysaloa!) from their sheltered positions in rosescenery haydyng on the heather side of Waldalure, Mount Saint John's, Jinnyland, whither our allies winged by duskfail, swift sanctuary seeking, after Sunsink gong (Oiboe!
Hitherzither! Almost dotty! I must dash!) to pour their peace in partial (floflo floreflorence), sweetishsad lightandgayle, twittwin twosingwoolow. Let everie sound of a pitch keep still in reasonance, jemcrow, jackdaw, prime and secund with their terce that whoe betwides them, now full theorb, now dulcifair, and when we press of pedal (sof!) pick out and vowalise your name. A mun. You pere Golazy, you mere Bare and you Bill Heeny, and you Smirky Dainty and, more beethoken, you whackfoolthenairyans with all your badchthumpered peanas! We are gluckglucky in our being so |3far3| fortunate that bark and bay duol with Man Goodfox inchimings having ceased |3for to3| the moment |3to so3| allow the clinkars of our nocturne field, night's sweetmoztheart, their Carmen Sylvae|3, my questº, my queen3|. |3Lou must wail to cool me airly! Coil me curly, warbler dear!3| May song it flourish (in the underwood), in chorush, long make it flourish (in the Nut, in the Nut sky) till thorush! Secret hookup.
— Roguenaar Loudbrags, that soddy old samph! How hijh is vuile!
To which yes he did, capt, that was the answer.
— And his shartshort trooping its colours! We knows his ventruqulence.
Which tuat tuat rang ripprippripplying.
Bulbul, bulbulone! |3'Tis golden sickle's hour. |aWe'd Holy moon priestess,
we'da| love our grappes of mistellose. Moths the matter?3| Pschtt!
|3Tabariusº comes. To fell our fairest. O gui, O
gui!3| Salan, saluis salaum! Caroluis! |3O indeed and we ware!3| Did you aye, did you eye, did you everysee, suchaway, suchawhy, eeriewhigg
airywhugger? |3Even to the extremity of the world?
Thea| enormanous his, our |shlittlest littlesh|! Wee wee,
|shthat long alancey onesh|!
|shLetº sit on this anthill for our frill dress talk
after this day of making blithe inveiled the heart before our groatsupper serves to us Panchomaster and let harleqwind
play peeptomine up all our colombinations.sh| |shWins won is nought, twigs too is nil, tricks trees makes |anil nixa|, fairs fears stoops at nothing:.sh| |shAnd till Arthur comes againus |aand |shsen peatrick'ssh| he's reformeda| we'll pose him together a piece, a pacesh|. |shShares in guineases!sh| |shThere's lovely the sight! Surey me, man weepful!sh| |shBig Seat, you did hear?sh| |shAnd teach him twisters in tongue irish. |aPat lad mayº goh too.a| Quicken, aspen; ash and yew; willow broom with oak for you. And move your tellabout. Not nice is that, limpet lady! Spose we try it promissly. But do now say to Mr Eustache! Ingean mingen has to |aknow heara|. Whoseº joint is out of jealousy now? Why, heavilybody's evillyboldy's.sh|3| Hopping Gracius, onthy ovful! O belessk me, what a nerve! How a mans in his armor we nurses know. Wingwong welly, pitty pretty Nelly! Some Poddy putted in, will anny petty pullet out? Call Kitty Kelly! Kissykitty, killykelly! What a nossowl buzzard! But what a |3nice neats3| ung gels!
Here all the leaves alift aloft full o' liefing fell a-laughing over Ombrellone and his parasollieras with their black thornguards from the County Shillelagh. Ignorant invincibles, innocents immutand! Onzel grootvatter Lodewijk is onangonamed before the bridge of primerose and his twy Isas Boldmans is met the blueybells near Dandeliond. |3We think it'sº a gorsedd shame, these godoms.3| A lark of limonladies! A lurk of orangetawneymen! You're backley wounted, buckley mister, bester of the boyne.
The all of them boys, in that
pig's village smoke, a sixdigitarian legion |3on druid circle3|, the Clandibblon cartel, foursquared in condomnation of his totomptation and for the duration till his repepulation, rally agreed, their roasted malts with blank, upon old nollcromforemost ironsides since he might as coolly have rolled to call out of the cuptin klanklord kettle auction like the soldr of a britsh he was bound to be and become till the sea got him whilask from maker to misses and what he gave way as a pattern, he, that hun of a horde, is a finn as she, his tent wife, is a lap, at home on a steed, abroad by the fire, and whoasever spit her in howsoever's profocation it was anybody's beastness as usual and she was noboddy's fondling saving her keepers, the peg in his pantry to hold the heavyache off his heart. Auspicably suspectable but in expectancy of respectableness. From dirty flock bedding, drip dropping through the ceiling, with two sisters of charities on the front steps and three evacuan cleansers at the back gaze, single box and pair of chairs (susceptible), occasionally and alternatively used by husband when having writing to do in connection with equitable druids and friendly or other societies through periods of dire want with comparative plenty (thunderburst, ravishment, dissolution and providentiality) to a sofa allbeit of hoarsehaar with Amodicum cloth, hired payono, still playing off, used by the youngsters for czurnying out oldstrums, three bedrooms upastairs, of which one with fireplace (aspectable), with greenhouse in prospect (particularly perspectable).
And you, when you kept at Dulby, were you always (for that
time only) what we knew how when we (from that point solely) were you know where? There you are! And why? Why, hitch a cock eye, he was snapped on the sly upsadaisying coraspearls out of the pie when all the perts in princer street set up their tinker's hymm (the rann, the rann, that keen of old bards) with
them newnesboys pearcin screaming off their armsworths. |3|shThe boss made dovesandraves out of his bucknesst while herself wears the bowler's hat in her bathsh|.º3| Deductive Almayne Rogers disguides his voice, shelters behind hoax chestnote from exsessive. Heat wives rasing. They jest keeps rosing. He jumps leaps rising. Howlong!
You known that tom? I certainly know. Is their bann bothstiesed? Saddenly now. Has they bane reneemed? Soothinly low. Does they ought to buy the papelboy when he footles up their suit? He's their mark to foil the flouter and they certainty owe.
He sprit in his phiz (baccon!). He salt to their biz (pudden!). He toockled her palam (so calam is solom!). And he suked their friends' leave (bonnick lass, fair weal!).
|3—3| Guilty but fellows culpas! It was felt by me, sindecade, that submerged doughdoughty doubleface told waterside labourers. But since we |3for athome's
health3| have chanced all that, the wild whips, the wind ships, the wonderlost for world hips, unto their trust prayed in aid its plumptylump piteousness which, when it turtled around seeking a sorth of turft, spoke to approach from inherdoff trisspass through minxmingled hair. Though I may have hawked it, said, and selled my
|3howº3| hot peas after theactrisscalls from my imprecurious position and though |3achance3| I could
have emptied a pan of backslop down drain by whiles of dodging a rere from the middenprivet appurtenant thereof, salving the presents of the board of wumps and pumps, I am ever incalpable of unlifting upfallen girls wherein dangered from them in |3there open
thereopen3| out of unadulteratous bowery, with those hintering influences from |3an3| angelsexonism. |3It was merely my
barely |abarleyºa| till their |aohºa| offs.
|aMissaunderstaid.a| |aMeggy Guggy's giggag. |bThe
code's proof!b| There are twingty to twangty too thews and leathermail coatschemes penparing to hostpost for it |bwith my valued fofavourb| to the pastº puzzles deparkment with larch parchelsº of presents for future branch offercings. The green approve the raid! Shaum Baum's bode he is amustering in the groves while his shool comes merging. Dear along. Dear |bandb| lest I forget mergers and bow to you |btoo lowb|, marchers! |bAttemption!b| What a mazing month of budsome misses they are making, so aº wingtywish to flit beflower. The beflore their |bking kinb|! |bAttonsure! |cEars to hears!c|b| The skall of a gall who has papertreated him |binto captivities with
his inside man a hocksheat of starvision for an avragetopeace of parchment b| to be my |bapoclaglagypst apoclagypstb| |blet him beb| asservent to Kinahaun! For I have waited me in a water of Elin and I have placed my reeds intectis before the Registower of the perception of tribute in the hall of the city of Analbe. |bHow concerns any Merryaunt and hworsoever gravesobbers it is perensempry sex of fun to halpº a dazzle off the othour.b| What for Mucias and Gracia may the duvlin rape the handsomst! |bThey seeker for vannflammº all worldins merkins. I'll eager make lyst turpidump undher arkens.b|a|3| And if my litigimate was |3well3| to wrenn |3tigtag3| cackling about it |3like the sallyº berd she is to abery ham3| in the Cutey Strict, |3dismissing mundamanuº all the riflings of her victuum gleaner (my old chuck|a, sheº drakes me druck|b, turning outº gay at ninetyb|a|!) and well3| shoving off |3a boaston mess over3| her handpicked |3hensbend hunsbend3|, as she would be calling |3well
for further oil mircles3| upon all her wayferer gods and reannouncing my |3devilries deviltries as was I a locally person of caves3| until I got my purchase on her |3firmforhold3| I am, by their sacreligion of daimond cap daimond, confessedly |3in my baron gentilhomme3| till ladiest day to have splet fort |3groont groontº3| a peer of bellows |3like Bacchulus shakes a rousing guttural3| at any old cerpaintime by peaching (allsole we are not amusical) the warry warst against myself in the defile as a lieberretter |3sebaiscopal3| of these mispeachyites of the first virginial water who with gladdyst tone ahquickyessed in it, overhowe and underwhere|3., the |atotty lolly poppy flossya| conny dollymaukins. |aThough I heave a coald on my bauck sametimesº I used alltides to be aswarmer for the blanka| Youº might be |athreeabreasteda| wholenosing at a |awallhoarding whallhoardinga| and it could be |adouble denseda| uncounthest hour of allbleakest age |anompos mentis like Novus Elector what with his Marx and their Groups a| yet |adid a doubt should a dare a| were Iº to you would do and dhamnk me, |ashenker,a| dhumnk you. |aSkunken Skunka|. |aWhat And fare with me to share with me. |bHinther and thonther, hant by hont.b| By where dauvening shedders down whose rovely lanes. As yose were and as yese is. Sure |bandb| you would,º Mr MacGurk. Be sure and you would, Mr O'Duane. To be sure and you would, Mr MacElligut. Wod you nods? Mom mom.a|3| My little love apprencisses, the estelles, van Nessies von Nixies voon der pool, |3which I had a reyal devouts for (yetº was it |amerely low marly loweasea| or just a feel with these|a, whichº olderman K. K.º Alwayswelly he is showing toº the fullnights,ºa| for my palmspread was gav to a parsleysprig, the curliest weedeen old ocean coils around, |aas pretty so spruce as aa| spice for salthorse, sons sonnies, and as tear to the thrusty as Taylor's Spring),º3| when, as Beacher seath, she was |3look3| like a little chilled by my tide impracing, and all the colories, my dears, |3fair3| fled from my folced cheeks!
Sir, kindest of |3bottleholder, bottleholder3| and very dear friend, |3froutiknawº,3| it will befor you, me dare beautiful young soldier, |3winninger nor anyour afº rudimental moskats,3| before you go to mats, you who have watched your share |3on your buntedº nogs3| at our love tennis |3squats regatts3| when on with the balls did disserve the |3fair fain3|, my goldrush gainst her silvernetss, to say, for the love of goddess and |3perthanow3| as you reveres your one mothers |3mitsch for matsch3| and while I reveal thus my deepseep daughter which was bourne |3bri3| up |3pridely3| out of |3me medsdreams3| unclouthed when I was pillowing in my brime (of Saturnay Eve, how now, weren't we't?), to see, I say, whoahoa, in stay of execution |3in re Milcho Melekmans, increaminated,3| what you feel|3, oddrabbit,3| upon every strong ground you have ever taken up, |3by bitterstiff work or battonstaff play, with assaultº of turk against a barrakraval of grakeshoots,3| if that is grace |3to for3| the grass what is balm for the bramblers, |3as itº is as it is,3| that I am the catasthmatic old ruffin to be seducing trovatellas, the dire dafty damedeaconesses, like (why sighs the soothesinger) the lilliths oft I |3feeled feldt3|, and when brutals and cautiouses only aims at the hogs in the |3human humans,º3| then (Houtes, Blymey and Torrenation, upturks and scotchem!) I'll |3tall tale3| tell croon paysecurers that thash on me stumpen blows the gaff off mombition and thit thides of marse makes a good dayle to be shattat. Fall stuff.
Here endeth chinchinatibus with have speak finish. Pink, pleas pink, two pleas pink, how two pleas pink.
|3— Look about you, Tutty Comyn!
— Remember and recall!, Killykeg!
— When visiting Dan Leary try the corner house for thee.