" "What for? What do you want of them?" "Why, they are … yours. "In spots you are a thoroughbred; but here's a black mark on your ticket, lad. " Good-natured fellows are always especial favourites with boys. 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. Her aunt arrived about halfpast ten, in black and with an unusually thick spotted veil.
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