Sheppard—becomes entitled to the estates; which eventually—provided he escaped the gallows—would descend to her son. In this attempt he was, however, foiled by the agility of the carpenter, who managed to retreat to the door, against which he placed his back, kicking the boards vigorously with his heel. In fiction you make the Chinese secretive, criminal, and terrible—or comic. 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. Even, I do not mind to study this Latin so abominable.
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