Let him be sure. 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. "I didn't imagine for a moment that you'd accept it, but I thought it right to make you the offer. She had left for ever the cage, the galling leash: she was free. They are all at prayer at this hour. The stranger turned his head at the sound. “Why on earth did you TELL me?” he cried. “May I hear?” “It really isn’t much to tell,” Drummond answered. Why? If she had put the query to herself, she could not have answered it. " "Is the poor lady alive?" asked Mrs. “Sure. In all other respects they differed as materially.
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