“How do you know?” “Well, it isn’t exactly a depressing state, is it?” “YOU don’t know. 13 Montague Street. ‘But the major—’ ‘The major can say nothing at all. But—it’s one of the things I’ve just been thinking over. 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. “Neither Sydney nor I would think of such a thing. The soldiers! They must not find her here.
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