” 174 < 21 > THANKSGIVING She padded softly up the old stairs, exhausted and elated. Gold-handled, too. How came you, Sir," he continued, addressing Sheppard, "to venture upon that frame. " "Never fear," replied the lady. Her voice recalled him. The vicomte has, he say, enough femmes in his hands. Good-bye, aunt. 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. Paul's; and the concert was prolonged by other neighbouring churches. I'll keep a look out that nothing happens.
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