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I——” She threw herself into an easy chair. Where Saint Giles' church stands, once a lazar-house stood; And, chain'd to its gates, was a vessel of wood; A broad-bottom'd bowl, from which all the fine fellows, Who pass'd by that spot, on their way to the gallows, Might tipple strong beer, Their spirits to cheer, 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! II. "Surely," observed Thames, laughing, "to one who entertains so high an opinion of Jonathan Wild, as Mr. “Everything will follow,” she said. ” Courtlaw refused brusquely, almost rudely. Och! many a mug o' bubb have I drained wi' the landlord, Joe Hind. She was surprised at his modesty.

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