” “Will you tell me,” Sir John said ponderously, “by what right you call that young lady—la petite Pellissier? I should be glad to know how you dare to allude to her in a public place in such a disrespectful manner!” Drummond looked at him and smiled. 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. "Poor thing!" muttered he, as the widow departed on her errand, "she's seen better days and better circumstances than she'll ever see again, I'm sure. Marina had retired to bed, drinking wine slowly, sleeping when she was not drinking. His own heart was too full of melancholy foreboding. ” “How old-fashioned of you, Lucy.
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