," said Mr. Berners, pointing
through the window as the coach rolled on. Sybil was already gazing
through the right-hand window, and so Rosa stretched her fair neck to
look from the left-hand one.

Yes, it was a fine scene. The young crescent moon with its tender beam
had gone down; but the great stars were out in all their glory, and by
their shining the travellers saw before them a beautiful little river,
whose rippling surface reflected in fitful glimmers the cheerful lights
of a village on its opposite bank.

"This is the Black River. It rises in those distant mountains, which are
called the Black Rocks, and which shut in our Black Valley. The village
here is called Blackville," explained Lyon Berners.

"What a deal of blackness!" replied Rosa Blondelle.

"If you think so, I must tell you in the first place that we are not
responsible for having named these places; and in the second, that the
names are really appropriate. The stupendous height and dark iron-gray
hue of the rocks that overshadow and darken the valley and the river,
and also the situation of the village at the entrance of the dark
valley, justify these names. And even if they did not, still we are not
so irreverent as to interfere with the arrangements of those who have
gone before us," laughed Lyon Berners.

And as he spoke the stage-coach reached the banks of the river, and drew
up before the little ferry-house. Here the travellers alighted, and had
their baggage taken off. And the coach, waiting only long enough to
change horses and to pick up passengers, all of whom, both man and
beast, had been brought over from the village by the ferry-boat, went on
its way, which lay along the east bank of the river.

Mr. Berners had his luggage and that of his party put upon the
ferry-boat, and then he led the ladies on board. He saw them comfortably
seated, and the nurse and child in a safe place, and then he turned to
the aged ferry-man with hearty good will, and inquired:

"Well, old Charon! all right with you?"

"Yes, sir, thank Heaven!" replied the old man, whose occupation,
combined with his great age and flowing gray locks, yet stalworth form
and unbroken strength, had conferred upon him the name of his infernal
predecessor--the navigator of the River Styx.

"All right in the village, and in the valley?" further inquired Mr.
Berners.

"All right in the willage, sir. And Joe, who has just arrove at the
tavern, do report all right in the walle