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. . "I strangled him—ha! ha! ha!—strangled him while he was at my breast—ha! ha!"—And then with a sudden and fearful change of look, she added, "That's what has driven me mad, I killed my child to save him from the gallows—oh! oh! One man hanged in a family is enough. Humph!" "What's the matter?" "Sh!" Spurlock passed by on the way to the bar. “It’s the stir of spring,” he said. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. At half after five that afternoon the doctor and his friend McClintock entered the office of the Victoria. This, then, was the woman from whom Hoddy would not have accepted a cup of water.
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