I next proceeded to Jenny Bunch's, the Ship, in Trig Lane—there I got the same answer. ‘Stay, Saling!’ The butler halted, looking round enquiringly. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. The queer phase of the dream was this, she was at no time a woman; she was symbolical of something, and he followed to learn what this something was. "'Sdeath! why am I not obeyed?" exclaimed the knight, angrily.
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