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. . Two packets were committed to your charge, which you undertook to deliver,—one to another priest, Sir Rowland's chaplain, at Manchester, the other to Mr. No means were neglected to accomplish this end. ‘You usually do,’ he said lightly. Very glad. To be jeune demoiselle, it is not always convenient. Their colloquy was ended abruptly by the apparition of Miss Klegg at the further door. “I heard the clock strike as I crossed the square,” she answered. " CHAPTER XVIII.
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