Text FW 035

us that it is true. They tell the story (an amalgam as absorbing as1
calzium chloereydes and hydrophobe sponges could make it) how2
one happygogusty Ides-of-April morning (the anniversary, as it3
fell out, of his first assumption of his mirthday suit and rights in4
appurtenance to the confusioning of human races) ages and ages5
after the alleged misdemeanour when the tried friend of all crea-6
tion, tigerwood roadstaff to his stay, was billowing across the7
wide expanse of our greatest park in his caoutchouc kepi and8
great belt and hideinsacks and his blaufunx fustian and ironsides9
jackboots and Bhagafat gaiters and his rubberised inverness, he10
met a cad with a pipe. The latter, the luciferant not the oriuolate11
(who, the odds are, is still berting dagabout in the same straw12
bamer, carryin his overgoat under his schulder, sheepside out, so13
as to look more like a coumfry gentleman and signing the pledge14
as gaily as you please) hardily accosted him with: Guinness thaw15
tool in jew me dinner ouzel fin? (a nice how-do-you-do in Pool-16
black at the time as some of our olddaisers may still tremblingly17
recall) to ask could he tell him how much a clock it was that the18
clock struck had he any idea by cock's luck as his watch was19
bradys. Hesitency was clearly to be evitated. Execration as cleverly20
to be honnisoid. The Earwicker of that spurring instant, realising21
on fundamental liberal principles the supreme importance, nexally22
and noxally, of physical life (the nearest help relay being pingping23
K. O. Sempatrick's Day and the fenian rising) and unwishful as24
he felt of being hurled into eternity right then, plugged by a soft-25
nosed bullet from the sap, halted, quick on the draw, and reply-26
in that he was feelin tipstaff, cue, prodooced from his gunpocket27
his Jurgensen's shrapnel waterbury, ours by communionism, his28
by usucapture, but, on the same stroke, hearing above the skirl-29
ing of harsh Mother East old Fox Goodman, the bellmaster, over30
the wastes to south, at work upon the ten ton tonuant thunder-31
ous tenor toller in the speckled church (Couhounin's call!) told32
the inquiring kidder, by Jehova, it was twelve of em sidereal and33
tankard time, adding, buttall, as he bended deeply with smoked34
sardinish breath to give more pondus to the copperstick he pre-35
sented (though this seems in some cumfusium with the chap-36

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