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. She bussed his cheek with her small lips as he stood by the open door, and exited alone towards the sleeping house. Strewn across the bed was a multitude of jumbled garments. " "Zounds!" exclaimed Quilt, "did you kill him?" "Not quite," replied Terence, laughing; "but I brought him to his senses.
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