" Drama. Now go. Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. Supper was spaghetti and Italian sausage that night. The stench is everywhere. 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, if you want an additional inducement to do so, I can tell you there's no one —not even his mother—whom he loves so well as you. .
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