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. Holcroft, we may have been mistaken. Your reputation for hospitality would remain under a cloud though, for tea was distinctly mentioned. And now YOU’RE on the war-path. As they entered the room beyond, a fierce growl was heard. A slow heavy thumping started up in Melusine’s chest, and she scarcely took in the astonished silence in those present in the room.
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