He turned to observe what this object was that had so unexpectedly diverted the young man's attention. He regarded that perennial miracle of pinning with wrathful eyes. 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. It took my breath away. Spurling had retired for the night. " "Blessings upon him!" cried Lady Trafford, fervently. It warms me, and lights me, and fills my world with flowers. “So you’d best open your coffers.
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