He was asleep when Jonathan entered, and growled at being disturbed. It must be somewhere hereabouts. "Well, how goes it?" he asked. Just as he was about to drain it, he encountered the basilisk glance of Jonathan Wild, and paused. Where the robber may cheer His spirit with beer, And drown in a sea of good liquor all fear! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! III. 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 why not?" The doctor dallied with his teaspoon. ‘Yes, dear Nan, a flirtation.
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