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It’s an instinct. I believe it amused him. . One day she had thrown all the gifts into the lagoon, and visited the secret nook no more. Her body rose up to meet his in a cat-like stretch and she smiled. 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. She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. He crawled underneath the covers with her. Before I sit down, I have a toast to propose, which I am sure will be received, as it deserves to be, with enthusiasm.
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