Wood, leaping from the bed. The contest was now carried on between Rowland and Darrell. She hit the villain with it. 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. "And had you been the worst scoundrel unhung, I'd have seen to it that you had the same care, the same chance.
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