So you, Jacques, must go and wait for me with the horse. Jack paused for a moment, and found that his own adventures formed the subject of the ballad. You are not ‘Alcide. I take more than their blood, John. He seemed wholly insensible to the rain, though it presently descended in torrents, and continued his search as ardently as before. 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. He did not speak for a moment. He was amused.
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