104 < 14 > THE UNTIMELY DEMISE OF JOSEPH R. I shall quit it and go abroad. ‘Étes-vous Francais?’ Her eyes, he noted, followed from himself to Hilary and back again, but she did not speak. Why, there's another party on the stair-head inquiring arter scullers; and, by the mass! they appear in a greater hurry than any on us. 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. She snapped out of her blissful state and looked at him squarely in the eyes.
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