Wood trembled. 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. “The rarefied air? I thought you had a better head. I may tell him, at any rate, that you will see him?” “I shall like to see him,” Anna answered. ‘It was your son who left the place empty then?’ he asked.
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