His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away. Wood's charms equalled your description. While this took place, while Quilt thundered at the inner door, and Jack drew back the bolts of the outer, a deep, manly voice was heard chanting—as if in contempt of the general uproar—the following strain:— With pipe and punch upon the board, And smiling nymphs around us; No tavern could more mirth afford Than old Saint Giles's round-house! The round-house! the round-house! The jolly—jolly round-house! "The jolly, jolly round-house!" chorussed Sheppard, as the last bar yielded to his efforts. Sheppard. " "What do you require further?" asked Jonathan. " "Arm yourself with that ruffian's weapons," replied Jack, "and let us search for her.
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