As he stood upon the bridge, he held down the light, and looked into the profound abyss. ’ ‘What are you about now, child?’ demanded Martha apprehensively. “It’s not. Annabel, I was lying. Rousing himself, he went to the door. "With pleasure, Sir," replied Edgeworth Bess. Are you sure what it is you want of me?” “I want you. 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.
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