" "Zounds!" exclaimed Wood; "it's my old master-key. "Mr. ” “Of course,” said Capes, and threw a newly lit cigar into the fire through sheer nervousness. 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. O'Higgins wandered into this street and that, studying the signs and resenting the Britisher's wariness in using too much tin and paint.
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