His advice was mostly practical. There’s that old gentleman at the end of the table—Bullding his name is. It was scarcely likely that she would have accepted his aid. 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. And so, here we are, right back from where we started.
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