” She smiled faintly. Sebastian drew over to her and lifted her chin from her chest. The Procession to Tyburn. During all their long comradeship he had never so much as ventured to hold her fingers. She remained for a few moments standing as though listening to his retreating footsteps. Practically it was most of the chief interests in life that she proposed to settle in this pedestrian meditation. ‘That is a very English name. 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. " "Thames Ditton—is that your name?" "No," replied the boy, impatiently; "Darrell—Thames Darrell.
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