Anna came back into the sitting-room with a little sigh of relief. "Who, then?" demanded Jack. “Sold again,” she remarked. "Strange!" observed the Master; "I thought he'd been at my elbow all this time. ” “An appetite like yours,” he said resignedly, “is fatal to all sentiment. "At least I'll try," replied Jonathan, sarcastically. 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. Places, I found, were daily given away, And yet no friendly gazette mentioned Gay.
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