" "The Black Lion!" echoed Terence. 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. ” Her elation teetered in mid-air for a second, then began to flutter down around her like a badly-built house of cards. " This placard attracted universal attention.
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