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. "There!" she cried, laughing, "that'll teach you to lay hands upon me again. Had he come to see her to find if she needed something? No. She found next morning, when she came to this advertisement answering, that it was more difficult than she had supposed. She felt she must fly before it and could no longer do so. Wood's cries: but, regardless of this, he darted along a passage, gained the shop, and passed through an open door into the street. What might it have been?’ Mrs Sindlesham shook her head helplessly.
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