| for in the byways of high improvidence that's what makes life- | 1 |
| work leaving and the world's a cell for citters to cit in. Let young | 2 |
| wimman run away with the story and let young min talk smooth | 3 |
| behind the butteler's back. She knows her knight's duty while | 4 |
| Luntum sleeps. Did ye save any tin? says he. Did I what? with | 5 |
| a grin says she. And we all like a marriedann because she is mer- | 6 |
| cenary. Though the length of the land lies under liquidation | 7 |
| (floote!) and there's nare a hairbrow nor an eyebush on this glau- | 8 |
| brous phace of Herrschuft Whatarwelter she'll loan a vesta
and | 9 |
| hire some peat and sarch the shores her cockles to heat and she'll | 10 |
| do all a turfwoman can to piff the business on. Paff. To puff the | 11 |
| blaziness on. Poffpoff. And even if Humpty shell fall frumpty | 12 |
| times as awkward again in the beardsboosoloom of all our grand | 13 |
| remonstrancers there'll be iggs for the brekkers come to mourn- | 14 |
| him, sunny side up with care. So true is it that therewhere's a | 15 |
| turnover the tay is wet too and when you think you ketch sight | 16 |
| of a hind make sure but you're cocked by a hin. | 17 |
| Then as she is on her behaviourite job of quainance bandy, | 18 |
| fruting for firstlings and taking her tithe, we may take our review | 19 |
| of the two mounds to see nothing of the himples here as at else- | 20 |
| where, by sixes and sevens, like so many heegills and collines, | 21 |
| sitton aroont, scentbreeched and somepotreek, in their swisha- | 22 |
| wish satins and their taffetaffe tights, playing Wharton's Folly, | 23 |
| at a treepurty on the planko in the purk. Stand up, mickos! | 24 |
| Make strake for minnas ! By order, Nicholas Proud. We may see | 25 |
| and hear nothing if we choose of the shortlegged bergins off | 26 |
| Corkhill or the bergamoors of Arbourhill or the bergagambols | 27 |
| of Summerhill or the bergincellies of Miseryhill or the country- | 28 |
| bossed bergones of Constitutionhill though every crowd has its | 29 |
| several tones and every trade has its clever mechanics and each | 30 |
| harmonical has a point of its own, Olaf's on the rise and Ivor's | 31 |
| on the lift and Sitric's place's between them. But all they are all | 32 |
| there scraping along to sneeze out a likelihood that will solve | 33 |
| and salve life's robulous rebus, hopping round his middle like | 34 |
| kippers on a griddle, O, as he lays dormont from the macroborg | 35 |
| of Holdhard to the microbirg of Pied de Poudre. Behove this | 36 |