"Yes, my dear," said Miss Pimpernell, seating herself in the gondola, which we had now reached. "They always dance about twelve hours or so before it rains." "Are there not some other signs given by animals, also, when there is going to be a change in the weather?" asked Bessie Dasher. "Yes," said Mr Mawley, anxious, as usual, to show off his erudition, "cows low, swallows fly near the ground, sheep bleat, and--" "Asses bray," said I, with emphasis. "So I hear," said he quickly. The curate was getting sharper than ever. "Ah," said I, "_that_ is only a `tu quoque!'" "What is that?" asked Bessie Dasher, thinking I was making use of some term of virulent abuse, I verily believe. "Oh!" said Mr Mawley, who was in high feather at having retorted my cut so brilliantly, "it is only a polite way of saying `you're another,' an expression which I dare say you have often heard vulgar little boys in the street make use of. I say, Lorton," he added, addressing me, "I think that's one to me, eh?" "All right," said I, "score it up, if you like." And, we started down the stream homeward bound. CHAPTER THIRTEEN. "GOOD-NIGHT!" Era gia l'ora che volge 'l disio, A' naviganti e 'ntenerisce il cuore, Lo di ch' ban detto a' dolci amici addio, E che lo nuova peregrin d'amore Punge, se ode Squilla di lontano, Che paja 'l giorno pianger che si muore! "Parting is such sweet sorrow, That I could say good-night till it be morrow!" We were sitting side by side, Min and I, leaning over the gunwale of the "gondola" which was rapidly gliding down the river; the stream being in our favour, and our teamster on the towing path keeping his horse up to a brisk trot, that caused us to proceed at a faster rate than we could have pulled even a lighter boat. It was a lovely summer night, calm and still, with hardly a breath of wind in the air; although, it was not at all unpleasantly close or oppressive. A bright crescent moon was shining, touching up the trees that skirted the bank with a flood of silvery-azure light, that brought out each twig and particle of foliage in strong relief, and cast their trunks in shade; while, the surface of the water, unstirred by the slightest ripple, gleamed like a mirror of burnished steel, winding in and out, in its serpentine course, between masses of dense shadow--until it was lost to sight in the distance, behind a sudden bend, and a dark projecting clump of willows and undergrowth. Our boat seemed to be the only floating thing for miles! Had it not been for an occasional twinkle from the far-off window of some riparian villa, and the "whish" of a startled swan as it swerved aside to allow the boat to sweep by, we might easily have imagined ourselves traversing the bosom of one of those vast, solitary rivers of the wilderness across the sea.