“It’s Ennison, isn’t it?” he exclaimed. " "Be it so," replied Jack, putting up his blade. ” She caressed his cheek seductively with her left palm and he closed his eyes in dreamy anticipation. 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. Sheppard; "he swears to save you. . What has become of the other?" "Why, surely you don't mean Jack Sheppard?" cried the woollen-draper in surprise.
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