I shall ride to St. ‘Come on, Hilary. ’ ‘You’re going?’ asked his friend, and the note of relief was marked. ’ ‘No, no,’ the other lady assured her with a twinkle. She inhaled a deep breath of air—London air. "I have a token to deliver to you," continued the stranger, addressing her. 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. “You’re.
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