. He was holding the ring to the light, and narrowly examining the inscription. She searched for it for many days that stretched into weeks before she gave up. “Hold on, she’s right here. 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. ‘Laisse-moi.
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