When the turnkey, next morning, stepp'd into his room, The sight of the hole in the wall struck him dumb; The sheriff's black bracelets lay strewn on the ground, But the lad that had worn 'em could nowhere be found. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. Henceforth Ruth would closely observe her fellow women and note the hang of their skirts. Lucy sat in back of Jane Lenihan, who never spoke to her. By a miracle, he averted its path, his hold on the girl’s mouth shifting fast to grasp her wrist. 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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