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grogging suburbanites, such as it was, fall and fall about, to the
brindishing of his charmed life, as toastified by his cheeriubi-
cundenances,no matter whether it was chateaubottled Guiness's
or Phoenix brewery stout it was or John Jameson and Sons or
Roob Coccola or, for the matter of that, O'Connell's famous old
Dublin ale that he wanted like hell, more that halibut oil or
jesuits tea, as a fall back, of several different quantities and quali-
ties amounting in all to, I should say, considerably more than the
better part of a gill or naggin of imperial dry and liquid measure
till, welcome be from us here, till the rising of the morn, till that
hen of Kaven's shows her beaconegg, and Chapwellswendows
stain our horyhistoricold and Father MacMichael stamps for
aitch o'clerk mess and the Litvian Newestlatter is seen, sold and
delivered and all's set for restart after the silence, like his ancestors
to this day after him (that the blazings of their ouldmouldy gods
may attend to them we pray!), overopposides the cowery lad in
the corner and forenenst the staregaze of the cathering candled,
that adornment of his album and folkenfather of familyans, he
came acrash a crupper sort of a sate on accomondation and the
very boxst in all his composs, whereuponce, behome the fore
for cove and trawlers, heave hone, leave lone, Larry's on the
focse and Faugh MacHugh O'Bawlar at the wheel, one to do and
one to dare, par by par, a peerless pair, ever here and over there,
with his fol the dee oll the doo on the flure of his feats and the
feels of the fumes in the wakes of his ears our wineman from
Barleyhome he just slumped to throne.
     So sailed the stout ship Nansy Hans. From Liff away. For 
Nattenlaender. As who has come returns. Farvel, farerne! Good-
bark, goodbye!
     Now follow we out by Starloe!