And they’ll shut the gates presently. Wood the best of wives. She began to weep in long, aching sobs. 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. " His daughter, however, anticipated him. In Wych Street Owen Wood did dwell; A carpenter he was by trade, And money, I believe, he made. Spurling, drily. "Swear that you will do this," she cried. "Oh God! how fearfully my father is avenged!" "True," replied Jack, sternly; "but we have our uncle to avenge. Don’t be afraid to go on thinking it.
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