” “But how did they prove it?” “By science,” said Miss Miniver, and hurried on, putting out a rhetorical hand that showed a slash of finger through its glove. 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. As for Mike’s observations on John’s desires to get laid, it was the pot calling the kettle black. The Magdalene.
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