Ah Cum before the day was over, slyly baiting him. Jack had got into one of the pens at the north side of the chapel. And I’ve read, and thought, and guessed, and looked—until MY innocence—it’s smirched. It was a purse. But the free arm of the stranger hit him a flail-like blow on the chest and sent him sprawling into the yielding sand. "For what?" "I had the paper with me. 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. " And he struck up the following ballad:— SAINT GILES'S BOWL. She took the piece of paper and unfolded it in the safety of her lap. "Enough's as good as a feast. Perhaps the boys had already faced off and he had missed it, he thought sourly.
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