Oh! you haven't got the key—then I must have it, I suppose. "Wet your whistle before you start, Jack," said Kneebone, pouring out a glass of ale. ” Their agreement so far seemed remarkable, and yet as a home-coming the thing was a little lacking in warmth. 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. It was just a chance that we in particular hit against each other—nothing predestined about it. Capes agreed with the utmost cordiality. It is we who have become the parasites and toys.
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