He watched her, savoring her curious attention. With his arms bare, the neckband of his shirt tucked in, he laboured. Straw and other combustibles being collected, were placed in the middle of the audiencechamber. 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. “I can tell you are thinking about it.
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