There MULSACK and SWIFTNECK, both prigs from their birth, OLD MOB and TOM COX took their last draught on earth: There RANDAL, and SHORTER, and WHITNEY pulled up, And jolly JACK JOYCE drank his finishing cup! For a can of ale calms, A highwayman's qualms, And makes him sing blithely his dolorous psalms And nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! "Singing's dry work," observed the stranger, pausing to take a pull at the bottle. The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned. With delicate touch he rescued all that was possible of them, and made a careful little parcel. ” “Then I didn’t waste my time in prison altogether?” “It wasn’t the prison impressed me. I am up to the ears in it all— every moment I can spare. The times were such that, with the opinions he entertained, he could not remain idle.
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