Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees. "Has he escaped?" asked the thief-taker, faintly. 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. "Poor Mrs. She cocked her head.
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