E. Yet here you are, and at precisely the right moment, too. Her eyes were lit with mirth, the corners of her mouth quivered. “I saw—they knocked off your fetters yesterday. 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. "But to the point," continued Wild, unconscious of the peril in which the remark had placed him,—"to the point.
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