That night she found a ship bound to sail for the heathen nation called America. " "There's but one way of clearing it, your worship," said the Master, archly. " "She? My God, the pity of it! She knows nothing of life. ‘Well, I thought as how someone in the house in Paddington might see me hanging about outside like. That'll tune me up. ‘Gone!’ he said. Where the robber may cheer His spirit with beer, And drown in a sea of good liquor all fear! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! III. .
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