Nicholas is dead. Giles's. "Write as I dictate," he cried, placing a pen in the jailer's hand and a pistol to his ear. net Transcribers Note: Obvious typesetter errors from the original corrected in this etext. It feels like it. 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. " "Peace!" retorted Jack, with increased bitterness. " To bring down this imperfect sketch of Newgate to the present time, it may be mentioned, that, being found inadequate to the purpose required, the old jail was pulled down in 1770.
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