" At the door of this tavern, which was situated on the left of the street, not more than a hundred yards distant from the church, the bell of which began to toll as soon as the procession came in sight, the cart drew up, and the whole cavalcade halted. 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. " "What? Good Lord, he's alive with fleas! They'll be all over the place. ” “Are you master of all three methods?” she asked, stopping her fanning for a moment to look at him. Wild," said Sheppard. " "Well," said Sister Prudence, "remember, I tried to save you some future heartaches.
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