Heaven forbid. “Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered. Telling the porter that he would attend to the house himself, he bade him go in search of Jack Sheppard. ’ Lucy giggled. “How did you find me?” She asked. " He sent the doctor a sly glance. 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. And, though it's a long time ago, I feel as sore on the subject as ever. Oh! that I should live to be father-in-law to a peer of France! What would my poor wife say to it, if she could come to life again? Oh, Thames!—my lord marquis, I mean—you have made me the happiest—the proudest of mankind.
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