“And you brought her a man, I presume. The major himself told me that this secret passage started upstairs. Mind, I, Baptist Kettleby, say so. She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. Suddenly he stopped short. I find you were excessively brave, mon pauvre. "I have killed you," cried Jack, endeavouring to staunch the effusion of blood from her breast. Where Saint Giles' church stands, once a lazar-house stood; And, chain'd to its gates, was a vessel of wood; A broad-bottom'd bowl, from which all the fine fellows, Who pass'd by that spot, on their way to the gallows, Might tipple strong beer, Their spirits to cheer, And drown in a sea of good liquor all fear! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! II.
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