She charged boldly into the space of Miss Miniver’s rhetorical pause. Oh, Mr Jarvis paid no mind,’ she added hastily, as if expecting disapproval. Take care of the old clothesman, and leave the rest to me. His head was small and bullet-shaped, and he did not wear a wig, but had his sleek black hair cut off closely round his temples. 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.
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