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. ‘Prudence? This name I have heard it spoken. And Miss Miniver began to sway her. Who were you looking for tonight? One of the émigrés? There were several in there. " Hastening from this heart-rending spectacle, Jack soon reached the grating that divided the men's compartment from that appropriated to the women.
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