She had never heard anything so unholy. She felt a lump rise in her throat, for she had come to love living in America. 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. You forget that every one is going to the ‘Unusual’ to see her. But oh! by what wonderful chance have you come hither so seasonably?" "I have just escaped from Newgate," replied Jack; "and am more than repaid for the severe toil I have undergone, in being able to save you.
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