Some years ago, in 1715, just before the Rebellion, I was rash enough to league myself with the Jacobite party, and by Wild's machinations got clapped into Newgate, whence I was glad to escape with my head upon my shoulders. He glanced at his watch. I do not know anything of him since I have fourteen years, and that he sent me to Blaye to be a nun. ’ ‘Between the devil and the deep blue sea, he were,’ agreed Pottiswick’s daughter. “The rule’s all right, so long as there isn’t a case. Ramage pursed his rather loose lips and shrugged his shoulders, with his eyes fixed steadily upon her. " And he struck up the following ballad:— SAINT GILES'S BOWL.
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