The moon rose cheerfully above Donner Lake. On its placid bosom a
dug-out canoe glided rapidly, containing Natty Bumpo and Genevra
Tompkins.

Both were silent. The same thought possessed each, and perhaps
there was sweet companionship even in the unbroken quiet. Genevra
bit the handle of her parasol and blushed. Natty Bumpo took a
fresh chew of tobacco. At length Genevra said, as if in half-
spoken revery:--

"The soft shining of the moon and the peaceful ripple of the waves
seem to say to us various things of an instructive and moral
tendency."

"You may bet yer pile on that, Miss," said her companion, gravely.
"It's all the preachin' and psalm-singin' I've heern since I was a
boy."

"Noble being!" said Miss Tompkins to herself, glancing at the
stately Pike as he bent over his paddle to conceal his emotion.
"Reared in this wild seclusion, yet he has become penetrated with
visible consciousness of a Great First Cause." Then, collecting
herself, she said aloud: "Methinks 'twere pleasant to glide ever
thus down the stream of life, hand in hand with the one being whom
the soul claims as its affinity. But what am I saying?"--and the
delicate-minded girl hid her face in her hands.

A long silence ensued, which was at length broken by her companion.