It’s John. "'Under the wide and starry sky, Dig the grave and let me lie. Byrom,—a poet of whom his native town, Manchester, may be justly proud; and his features and figure have been preserved by the most illustrious of his companions on the present occasion,—Hogarth,—in the levée in the "Rake's Progress," and in "Southwark Fair. She's not mischievous—and besides she's chained, and can't reach you. But I've an old friend on the way here, and he knows the game down there. So, then, fifty gold was considerable; it would carry Ah Cum across four comparatively idle months.
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