. Even as a child she observed how men were haunted 18 by the presence of her mother. 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. " "Sir Rowland is my brother," resumed Lady Trafford coldly. "Bury her in Willesden churchyard, as she requested, on Sunday," said Jack. Yet I fancy that we who have been poor ourselves must be the best judges of the needs of the people.
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