" And he struck up the following ballad:— SAINT GILES'S BOWL. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. As usual, however, on the occasion of any great calamity, a crowd was scouring the streets, whose sole object was plunder. CHAPTER XV. . unless a copyright notice is included. Kneebone, I'll make one of the party. To-day he selected the girl, and gave her the lead-chair.
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