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. The sidewalk resonated with the pounding of cold rain
by the time she left the building. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. That’s got his nerves to rags. She thought she
had hidden well from him. She made me over. Jonathan had to feel his way. “We’ll go to a place where we can have a private room,” he said. But a far
greater affliction was in store for her. All he will say is that she said
so—as if anyone could believe a word the girl said. As he
looked around, he beheld an incessant stream of passengers hurrying on below.
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