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. An admirable alternative presented itself and she sighed, spreading her hands. " "You judged rightly," rejoined Jack; "I never yet broke an engagement with friend or foe—and never will. He did like her, anyhow; he was always pleased to be with her. " So saying, he closed the door. ’ ‘You have seen him? Exactement. Most of the horses were dead, all but three stallions and two mares left among what was once a thriving stable.
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