There MULSACK and SWIFTNECK, both prigs from their birth, OLD MOB and TOM COX took their last draught on earth: There RANDAL, and SHORTER, and WHITNEY pulled up, And jolly JACK JOYCE drank his finishing cup! For a can of ale calms, A highwayman's qualms, And makes him sing blithely his dolorous psalms And nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! "Singing's dry work," observed the stranger, pausing to take a pull at the bottle. Almost the best of all. Wood; "and I did so to see how far your effrontery would carry you. But there was nothing in her bearing that a passer-by would have noted, to tell of the excitement that possessed her. “I have come for an explanation,” she said. I ask you, although it is not my place to ask you, to return home. " With these words, he tore the mantle from Wood's back, and, perceiving the child, endeavoured to seize it. ’ “Crude, I admit. He smiled.
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