"Much better," said Mrs. Ramage tethered the horse to the farther gate-post, and Caesar blew heavily and began to investigate the hedge. 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. "Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper.
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