Best paper by long chalks for a small ad. Got the provinces now.
Cook and general, exc. cuisine, housemaid kept. Wanted live man for spirit
counter. Resp. girl (R.C.) wishes to hear of post in fruit or pork shop.
James Carlisle made that. Six and a half per cent dividend. Made a big
deal on Coates's shares. Ca' canny. Cunning old Scotch hunks. All the
toady news. Our gracious and popular vicereine. Bought the IRISH FIELD
now. Lady Mountcashel has quite recovered after her confinement and rode
out with the Ward Union staghounds at the enlargement yesterday at
Rathoath. Uneatable fox. Pothunters too. Fear injects juices make it
tender enough for them. Riding astride. Sit her horse like a man.
Weightcarrying huntress. No sidesaddle or pillion for her, not for Joe.
First to the meet and in at the death. Strong as a brood mare some of
those horsey women. Swagger around livery stables. Toss off a glass of
brandy neat while you'd say knife. That one at the Grosvenor this morning.
Up with her on the car: wishswish. Stonewall or fivebarred gate
put her mount to it. Think that pugnosed driver did it out of spite.
Who is this she was like? O yes! Mrs Miriam Dandrade that sold me
her old wraps and black underclothes in the Shelbourne hotel.
Divorced Spanish American. Didn't take a feather out of her
my handling them. As if I was her clotheshorse. Saw her in the
viceregal party when Stubbs the park ranger got me in with Whelan of the
EXPRESS. Scavenging what the quality left. High tea. Mayonnaise I poured
on the plums thinking it was custard. Her ears ought to have tingled for a
few weeks after. Want to be a bull for her. Born courtesan. No nursery
work for her, thanks.

Poor Mrs Purefoy! Methodist husband. Method in his madness.
Saffron bun and milk and soda lunch in the educational dairy. Y. M. C. A.
Eating with a stopwatch, thirtytwo chews to the minute. And still his