"Can't!" repeated his mother. ” For a moment Mr. Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. "Get from under it, Jack!" vociferated Thames. . Blueskin will go with you,—for fear of a mistake. The ripple of the water against the boat, as its keel cleaves through the stream—the darkling current hurrying by—the indistinctly-seen craft, of all forms and all sizes, hovering around, and making their way in ghostlike silence, or warning each other of their approach by cries, that, heard from afar, have something doleful in their note—the solemn shadows cast by the bridges—the deeper gloom of the echoing arches—the lights glimmering from the banks—the red reflection thrown upon the waves by a fire kindled on some stationary barge—the tall and fantastic shapes of the houses, as discerned through the obscurity;—these, and other sights and sounds of the same character, give a sombre colour to the thoughts of one who may choose to indulge in meditation at such a time and in such a place. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. He reached for her and she stroked his head soothingly as his mother had done a few times when he had suffered bad fevers. Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. ” Anna drew out her purse at once.
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