The young man had knocked over the siphon. ”
He rowed a stroke and watched the swirl of water from his oar broaden and
die away. Barleycorn had sent to the mat for the count of nine: unless the young fool's
daddy had a bundle of coin. 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. “Ugh!” she said.
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This video was uploaded to indienet.info on 16-06-2024 01:26:53