"What do you want fot that coat, friend?" asked Jack, as he came up. 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. "It won't do, widow," said he, drawing near her, while she shrank from his approach, "so you may spare your breath. ” “We will,” said Miss Miniver, refusing to be suppressed, “if some of us have to be killed to get it. ‘Jacques!’ She got no further, for Kimble came towards her, speaking fast and low.
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