" "I know not how it is," sighed Darrell, "but I feel an unaccountable misgiving at quitting this place. 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. Why must her old nurse discover her precisely at this moment? ‘What are you at now, may I ask?’ Martha glared at the footman. The entire city seemed to exist for beauty and art alone. " "You are an angel, I say," continued the poor maniac; "and my Jack would have been like you, if he had lived. A vast indifference settled down upon him.
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