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. ” She said. “Girls of sixteen do not need their own laundry hampers. She stood 218 there, broken bottle still in hand. “There is my aunt,” she said. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality. Mr. " "You're not going to betray me!" cried Jack, in alarm.
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