‘Word has it that she is English on her father’s side. He was an imaginative young man. 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. But before he could say anything, the vehicle rolled to a halt. . This one too she read. But out of a belated regard for her father she wrote the surname of some one else. " "You do not remember me, I dare say," observed the stranger. " "Don't anger him, my dear son," implored the poor widow, with a look of anguish at Jack.
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