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" She rose. Or I should say—’ ‘Eugenia,’ cut in Gerald grimly. “I do not lay claim,” he continued, “to any remarkable amount of insight, but it is possible, is it not, that I have stumbled upon your present cause of distress. Not MY affair. 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. "By Heaven!" cried he in a tone of surprise, "you have an infant there?" "To be sure I have," replied Wood, angrily; for, finding that the intentions of the stranger were pacific, so far as he was concerned, he thought he might safely venture on a slight display of spirit.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 21-09-2024 15:19:27
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