The newcomer stopped short upon the threshold. She had never seen her sitting on tables nor heard her discussing theology, and had failed to observe that the graceful figure was a natural one and not due to ably chosen stays. “Are you a special sort of clergyman,” she said, after a pause, and looking down her nose at him, “or do you go to the Universities?” “Oh!” he said, profoundly. 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. Glad to get back, I’m sure,” he said briskly. ” She shook her head. I had to go at a moment’s notice.
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