His advice was mostly practical. Unless—’ Something clicked in his mind and he stared at his friend without seeing him. "I don't see how I can improve it. Jolly nose! the bright rubies that garnish thy tip Are dug from the mines of canary; And to keep up their lustre I moisten my lip With hogsheads of claret and sherry. At this moment, a door was opened below; lights gleamed on the walls; and the figures of Rowland and Sir Cecil were distinguished at the foot of the stairs. " And he struck up the following ballad:— SAINT GILES'S BOWL. "Oh! nothin' partickler—mere curossity," replied Terence. “You don’t waste any time. "How, Sir?" "Except by adoption. You refuse me your confidence. I'll leave these out, and to-morrow you can read them through. "As like as life.
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