. F. He thought he heard a scraping sound as he turned the handle. By many a highwayman many a draught Of nutty-brown ale at Saint Giles's was quaft, Until the old lazar-house chanced to fall down, And the broad-bottom'd bowl was removed to the Crown. CHAPTER VI. She was taken dreadfully ill on the road, with spasms and short breath, and swoonings,—worse than ever she was before. A wide terrace then led to large iron gates,' over which were placed the two celebrated figures of Raving and Melancholy Madness, executed by the elder Cibber, and commemorated by Pope in the Dunciad, in the wellknown lines:— "Close to those walls where Folly holds her throne, And laughs to think Monroe would take her down, Where, o'er the gates, by his famed father's hand, Great Cibber's brazen, brainless brothers stand. “Sure, I guess so. I don’t suggest any philanthropy. " "Take care you don't fall into it yourself," returned Jackson, with a slight sneer. It had, as it were, blown up at the concussion of his first step.
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