"Ah! many a night me dream of Pal-aer-mo," he called back, as, striking into a by-path, he disappeared in the darkness.
And then we came to a great iron bridge, sternly silhouetted in the sunset.

On either side rose cliffs of darkness, and beneath, like sheets of cold moonlight, flowed the Genesee, a Dantesque effect of jet and silver, Stygian in its intensity and indescribably mournful.

The banks of Acheron can not be more wildly _funebre_, and it was companionable to hear Colin's voice mimicking out of the darkness: "In this country me do rough-a work.

In Pal-aer-mo do polit-a work!" "Poor chap!" I said, after a pause, thinking of our friend from Pal-aer-mo.

"Do you know Hafiz, Colin ?" I continued.