"If you are human," rejoined Trenchard, with stern emphasis, "I insist upon knowing whence you derived your information?" "I might refuse to answer the question, Sir Rowland. 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 eat for both. Just so had his subordinates shown their apprehension.
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