She read beautifully because the fixed form of the poem signified nothing. To this Jack replied, that he should be perfectly contented, provided he might have a small allowance of gin. Stories … love stories: and to-morrow she would know the joy of reading them! It was almost unbelievable; it was too good to be true. . Where is Father Spencer? I must have absolution. 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.
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