The skipper obeyed, and in another moment, they swept through the narrow lock. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. “Don’t you think I ought to?” she asked, very submissively. I knew where I would go next: Florence. " "That's frank enough," the doctor admitted astonishedly. It isn’t. ToC London, at the period of this history, boasted only a single bridge. Promptly Ah Cum wired the information to O'Higgins in Hong-Kong.
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