We all did that in our youth, when first we came upon a fine story; else we were worthless metal indeed. “So am I the jewel or the bug inside?” He smiled. 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 were wide the mark, physically; otherwise you had him pat. That was the glorious if bewildering truth.
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