The pantomime was not bad.

We waved our hand to the diligence, and set out cheerfully, with our bags at our backs, entering a gorge in the fir-covered hills before sunset, after starting the proposition--Does the sun himself look foreign in a foreign country?
'Yes, he does,' said Temple; and so I thought, but denied it, for by the sun's favour I hoped to see my father that night, and hail Apollo joyfully in the morning; a hope that grew with exercise of my limbs.
Beautiful cascades of dark bright water leaped down the gorge; we chased an invisible animal.

Suddenly one of us exclaimed, 'We 're in a German forest'; and we remembered grim tales of these forests, their awful castles, barons, knights, ladies, long-bearded dwarfs, gnomes and thin people.

I commenced a legend off-hand.
'No, no,' said Temple, as if curdling; 'let's call this place the mouth of Hades.

Greek things don't make you feel funny.' I laughed louder than was necessary, and remarked that I never had cared so much for Greek as on board Captain Welsh's vessel.
'It's because he was all on the opposite tack I went on quoting,' said Temple.