Wood. Ramage tethered the horse to the farther gate-post, and Caesar blew heavily and began to investigate the hedge. 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. For the first time, perhaps, in his life, he repented of his brutality. ‘I am not French in the least, bête. All the same, I don’t admit it. S.
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