At last I tried a dramatic agent, and got on the music hall stage. . 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 now,’ he said, drawing Madame to the seat, and contriving to sit close enough that his anatomy touched hers at several points, ‘let us talk about you, madame. I’m going up to London with the Widgetts to that ball. Recollect that. ” Annabel sank suddenly into a chair. I don’t care if you never tell me any of your secrets. ” A dull flush burned upon his cheeks. Gay, by his strokes of pleasantry, whether in his writings or conversation, never lost a friend.
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