“My dear child,” he said, “with me you need have no apprehension. “I—I shall be all right directly. “We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other. ‘So now you will please to go away and leave me to my business. "Tom," continued Kneebone, calling to the shop-boy, "don't go home. 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. Stanley. He laughs at locks and bolts; and the more carefully you guard your premises from him, the more likely are you to insure an attack. .
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