U. Gerald’s breath caught. Should it e'er be my lot to ride backwards that way, At the door of the Crown I will certainly stay; I'll summon the landlord—I'll call for the Bowl, And drink a deep draught to the health of my soul! Whatever may hap, I'll taste of the tap, To keep up my spirits when brought to the crap! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of St. ” The note of his own voice exasperated him. " "To-morrow will be too late," said Sheppard, moodily. The natural gaiety of the place seemed to have affected them both. Fiercely defensive, as usual.
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