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. org. ’ ‘So that you may interest yourself in my affairs even more?’ ‘Then I will go with you,’ he offered. \"Nice to meet you. And when they got to Covent Garden Ramage secured one of the little upper boxes, and they came into it as the overture began. When about to retire to rest, the rencounter with Jack Sheppard again recurred to him, and he half blamed himself for not acquainting Mr. "Flying fish. Infested by every description of vagabond and miscreant, it was, perhaps, a few degrees worse than the rookery near Saint Giles's and the desperate neighbourhood of Saffron Hill in our own time. The air might be cool, but half an hour without head-gear was an invitation to sunstroke.
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