His expression became pained. Sir John stood upon the threshold. The doctor had not heard from his people. 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. Melusine had confessed this morning, that she had borrowed his horse, that Jack had met with his accident through her fault. " "As an honest Chinaman?"—taking out the offensiveness of the query by smiling. Suddenly he burst into wild laughter; but equally as suddenly something strangled the sound in his throat.
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