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. Ever smelled Eternity for Men? I think I smelled it on Josh once. gutenberg. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. Blueskin, who had evaded me with the papers and the money, is a prisoner here, and will perish on the same gallows as yourself. I felt—wrapped in thick cobwebs.
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