WHO LOVED THE SLEEPER BEST? Lines suggested by hearing the question asked concerning a loved one lately departed, Who of us shall mourn most for him? who loved him best? BY MRS. E. M. BRUCE. Who loved the sleeper best? Or was a sister's love, The charm that made the dying hour, Who loved the sleeper best? A father, who with more than mother's pride, Or was a brother's life, These loved the sleeper well, But One there is, a dearer friend than all, And from his home of love, Be still my questioning heart. AN ARTIST'S EXCURSION. BY J. KENRICK FISHER. ers; all was under a cloud, and monotenous to a degree that, for a time, made some of us regret the expenses. But artists are merry fellows, and the disappointment was atoned for by conversation, that was intelligible and interesting to themselves, howbeit the lady might have been more edified with matters less technical. The reader also might deem it uninteresting or w rse, to read what was said on merely artistic matters, but an incident occurred to the lady which may be interesting. We did not at first notice that she had a strangely wild look-a look somewhat of terror and bewilderment. I sat opposite her, and was the first to observe it, and point it out to the one who sat next me. He conjectured that she was going to an Insane Asylum which was on our way, and was displeased that Mr. Ward had not found a brother artist to take his place in the party, and decidedly indignant that the person in charge of her should not have waited until he could have an inside seat for himself But as she kept silent, he hoped that she would not trouble us. He whispered his suspicion to his righthand companion, who whispered to his vis-a-vis, and so it went round, and all agreed that a lady of such respectable appearance ought not to have been left to the The care of strangers, in such a case. commisseration felt for her was a constraint upon the conversation for some time; but comments on interesting scenes and effects gradually diverted attention from her. While a student of the Royal Academy, In the midst of a rather animated disI had the good fortune to be invited to cussion on the effect of a hamlet we were join a sketching party in which were seve- passing, the lady suddenly uttered a ral artists of distinction. We were to take scream. and cried, "Let me out let me the whole inside of a stage-coach, six seats. out! oh, let me out!" The effect was It happened that one of the party was un- thrilling. I never was so startled. The able to go, and sent word that he would coach was stopped. The guard came to give up his place to any one who n the the door and opened it, and the lady rushrest liked to admit. Arrived at the stop-ed upon him, imploring him to let her ride ping-place, they admitted an elderly lady outside. who had come early and waited long, hoping there might be a seat to spare inside. The morning was drizzly, and, instead of the pleasant sunrise we had hoped for, we were likely to see neither sunrise nor sunset that day, nor even clouds and show "Yes, ma'am! yes, ma'am! Don't take on so. You shall ride outside; here is a gentleman that will give you his seat." The exchange was made, and we were much surprised and pleased to find our new companion a brother artist, whom Mr. Wood had got to take his place, and had promised to accompany to the coach to introduce him. "And he wasn't up when you called on him?" asked Constable. "Up! not he. Wood up at four o'clock! I thought you knew him. He stuck his night-cap out of the window, after I had knocked for ten minutes, and told me to run, or I should be late, and to introduce myself with his best compliments, So here I am, Peter Powell, at your service, gentlemen." Glad to have you with us, Mr. Powell," was the unanimous greeting. Powell, although he had not been for mally introduced to any one present, was known to all, and all were glad to meet him. He was the drollest little fellow among the artists, and that is saying much; and he was always invited, and generally present at the merry suppers of his friends. All who did not know him had heard of him, and wanted to know him, and no one could have been more likely to dispel the dullness of a rainy day in a stage-coach. Always happy, always in luck, always in good humor with every one, and confident of kindness, little Powell always laughed and made his friends laugh. "How did you contrive to get inside, Powell?" asked John Chaton, another excessively droll fellow. "I contrive? I didn't contrive it. thought you had contrived it in here. I thought you might have seen me get up outside, although the coach was just starting when I arrived Didn't you see me, and shock the old lady so as to get me inside?" 46 "No! why, the poor woman is in sane!" down, so you see, it was all quite natural, at least, I did not contrive it. I hope the poor creature won't suffer from the rain." The incident passed without much farther comment and the conversation became technical, and of no interest to the outside reader. The weather cleared; the roads became dry without dust, and the landscape fresh and sparkling; all was delightful before eleven o'clock, and our dreary forbodings were happily disappointed. We ad even forgotten the incident that brought our whole party together, when we arrived at a long hill, at the foot of which the horses were changed. As was then usual in England, the passengers relieved their joints by walking up hill. The insane lady kept among the foremost. Powell, whose curiosity was rivalled by his talent for mimicry, ran and overtook her, and kept apparently in conversation with her, until the coach came up, and we mounted. When we had got well seated, Powell said, very gravely, "You were quite right to think the old lady insane." Why so? what did you see about her?" "It is tit for tat. She thinks you are all insane." "The deuce? Well, that often happens. What did she say ? I Why, she said you talked so strangely, all but the gentleman that sat next her, that she soon made up her mind that you were going to the asylum, and that Mr. Turner, as they called him, was your keeper, as he said little, and kept a sharp eye on you. One of you, a dreadful wild creature, Constable I take it, talked about giving the sky a fillip, and sending back the hills, and keeping down the trees, and clearing the water in the brook, and, O! lauk, she couldn't think of a thousandth part of the queer things he said; and the others kept saying, yes, yes! and talking e'en a'most as bad as he did. All the time the keeper was a looking sharp at 'em, and as sober as a judge, and saying nothing; and all at once he broke out, and says he to the tall one, Stanfield, I suppose-when he said, says he, see how the team there carries off that clump of "You don't say so! honor bright! Why, the guard fancied you had been making love to her. Said he, 'I'm blowed if I didn't think they was a rum set of fellows when I first seed 'em. I wondered when I saw what an old gal she was.' "None of your jokes, Powell; we all behaved like deacons to her." my "Ah! that accounts for it. Well, it is luck. I heard her screaming to get outside, and showed the guard the edge of a shilling; he winked, and I followed him trees; yes, says he, and see how that old woman in the red cloak carries off that church! Oh! said she, I thought I should have sunk into the ground; to think they were all mad, and the one I had taken for the keeper was the maddest of 'em all, and a' sitting right close to me. Praise God, I had strength enough to scream for help I'm afraid, sir, that I was wrong not to tell you of the danger. I didn't think of it, until I was up out side, and felt safe; and then the guard said there wasn't any danger for a man, that knew how to take care of himself; but I was afraid you was too small; but the guard said you was safe. I hope it's all right. Oh! I'm so obliged to you, sir, for giving up your seat." All this and much more, Powell gave in the words and tones, and gestures of the lady herself, with a felicity of mimicry that would have done credit to Matthew, or Liston. The strange expressions were recollected, and gave to the imitation a vraisemblance which dispelled all suspicion of exaggeration or embellishment-a means of making his stories interesting, which Powell was supposed to adopt when necessary. "And what did you tell her, Powell, to reconcile her to the loss of her inside seat, which she had been accidentally diddled out of? Come, Powell, you are religious; how did you square the account with your conscience?" "I settled it by my wits; first, the seat belonged to Wood, who assigned it to me; second, it wouldn't become me to be more religious than my betters, that squared the account with my conscience. As to the old lady's comfort, she is delighted with the change, and to relieve her concern on my account, I told her that Turner, whom she took for the maddest, is entirely sane, and the keeper, and that he talked queer to humor them. O, lauk! how I was deceived! and how I was deceived to think that Turner was the keeper. O! isn't he the worst of 'em all?' Yes, ma'am," I replied, "everybody says he is the maddest of the whole set. "" Turner grumbled a little, indistinctly; he seldom spoke distinctly. But as he had laughed with the rest, he could not complain, especially as all the critics bore out the report of Powell. At that time there was not a critic in newspaper or magazine, who did not slash Turner unmercifully, tell him how to paint, and proclaim him incurably mad. Time Time rolled on, so did the coach. went merrily and rapidly, so did the coach, considering that it went by horse power, and not by steam. At that time the idea of steam rivalling a fast coach, was visionary, especially if it should be confined to a railway, and not allowed to go on the Macadam turnpikes. Steam carriages had been seen in pictures; Cruikshanks had humorously illustrated them in a print in which several old horses in the corner of a pasture, were considering their probable. effect on their business. They had as little faith in them as the men had. One of them who was blind, did not believe in them at all. "Dobbin," said he, “you're trotting, but you can't get ahead of me; I'm too old to believe that a coach can go without horses." The counsel of the opponents of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway Company was nearly as incredulous; in concluding his speech before the Parliamentary Committee, he said, "I take it for granted that no man in his senses believes that this railway, if Parliament should be so deluded as to sanction its construction, can ever be worked by horse power; even the projectors dare not pretend that; but they tell you it can be worked by steam carriages. Here is a picture of one, and an account of what it is going to do; it is going to run at fifteen miles an hour! They don't tell that here, before an intelligent committee; but Mr. Stephenson thinks they may run at seven or eight miles an hour, and draw loads at five miles an hour; and Mr. Locke is confident that they can draw useful loads at two and a half miles an hour. This is promised,not proved, however; it is all they dare promise to a responsible committee, that will scrutinize their impudent pretensions. But another story has been told to the deluded stockholders; they were to gallop from Liverpool to Manchester at a speed which the mail-coaches had attempted, but never could attain." Look at that fine plashy ditch at the turn we are coming to," said Constable, in an excited tone. All crowded to the left side to look out, the whip cracked, the horses broke into a gallop, passing the turn at tip-top speed. "Bravo! hurra!" Over went the coach, falling into the fine, plashy ditch. Here's an end of us if we don't smash open the door," said little Powell, who, with his usual luck, was uppermost. "Stanfield, there are your legs, I know by their length; give a shove with 'em, and help me break open the door; it sticks fast. Shove all! there she opens.' Out we all scrambled, most of us wet, but not seriously hurt. The outsiders had fared worse than we. One pair of legs stuck up above water, and were kicking and splashing furiously, close to us, as we stood on the side of the coach. We caught hold of them and pulled up their owner, whose head and shoulders were thickly covered with mud. As soon as he got right end up, he wiped the mud from his nose, and mouth, and ears, and broke out, "Do-ra-mi-fa-sol la-si-Do-00-O! Thank God, I haven't lost my G!" It was Morley, a popular singer. As soon as he had washed off the mud, he was profuse in his thanks for our promptitude; for he hadn't his breath when he went in, and a few seconds more might have spoiled his voice, if they didn't finish him. The old lady who rode behind, fell right side up, and was not hurt, but thoroughly frightened and wet. Powell, like a gallant little fellow, as he was, helped her all he could, and explained to her that the gentlemen were not regular lunatics. but artists, and perfectly harmless; ad insisted that she should take her inside seat, when the coach was got ready. She wouldn't for the world, not that she doubted they were harmless, but she couldn't look them in the face after such a strange mistake. All she would be persuaded to do was to use the coach as a dressingroom, to change her clothes, and to take her seat in it after dark, when they wouldn't see how ashamed she was of hav ing thought them insane. Indeed, she had began to doubt it, when they passed the asylum without stopping. “Well, madam!" said Powell, "then you must forgive me for the joke. I'm a joker, and we're all jokers, and I couldn't resist the opportunity to quiz 'em a little about it, and you must allow me to pay the difference in the price of seats, as I intended to do when I kept you out of your seat." "No, no, no. It was pleasantest outside; besides. the guard says you would have had the seat but for a misunderstanding. So, if you will let me have it after dark, I shall be much obliged to you, and can't allow you to pay the difference." 46 Well, then, let me pay half; that will be about in proportion to the distance." I can't take it, sir. I am greatly obliged as it is, and couldn't separate you from your friends, if I didn't feel sure of your kindness, and was not in rather feeble health. You must let it be settled so, wont you? But I was alarmed for you, when I heard the screaming and laughing after you got in the second time; it seemed so like what I had heard of the laughing of insane people, I thought they must be very bad." "Oh, they were laughing at the jokes we got off about the lunacy. It is our way of carrying on." Oh. how can I ever look them in the face! I'm desperately ashamed." "Pooh! don't be concerned about it. It was quite natural, and they are capital men, and know how to make allowances for those who don't understand their lingo. There's the coach up right. Now you can get in and change your clothes. This is your trunk. It won't go in; you'll have to open it here." The trunk was opened, dry clothes tak quainted with the gentry for miles around. During the last week of our stay we were invited to four jolly, old-fashioned dinners, in the open air, on the lawns of antique houses. We had old English fare en out, and in a short time the lady had them on. Meantime, the gentlemen who happened to have dry clothes had made their changes behind a hedge. But two of the outsiders and both coachman and guards were without a change, and oblig--roast beef, plum pudding, ale and the ed to ride on in a shockingly muddy condition. The old horses and the lawyer, and other knowing ones, would have congratulated them on their safety; being overturned, why, there they were; but had they been blown up, why, where would they have been? They all arrived safely at their jour ney's end, and the harmless accident led to pleasant consequences, as will be seen hereafter. Had they been blown up, or smashed up in railway style, the consequences might have been quite different. We took a parlor and sitting-room at the inn, and next morning early were out sketching. After dinner, which we took very late, we finished our sketches, and the scenes from which they were taken, and other matters, and kept ourselves merry until bed-time, and were out again early in the morning; and so we continued for about three weeks, finding within reach of the inn abundance of picturesque scenery. On Sundays we went to church in the village. All sorts of stories had been circulated about us, and we were objects of great attention. Some held that we were lunatics rusticating for our health, others, that we were artists from "Lunnun," come to see how trees and rocks are shaped, so that we might not commit errors similar to that of the famous cockney artist who painted red lobsters on tho seashore, and the disagreement and disputes about us made us all the more interesting. During the week days, the servants at the inn received a harvest of sixpences for slily admitting people to see our sketches, which were set up around the parlor to dry; and, we found the cards of several gentlemen of the neighborhood who were slightly known to some of us. Cards were sent in return, signifying that we were at home in the evenings; and we soon had many pleasant visitors, and became ac et ceteras in abundance; and we had God save the King roared by fifty loyal voices, and we had dances on the lawn, to shake down the dinners, and the buxom young women reminded us of ancient art, in which strength is not sacrificed to delicacy. Distinguished among our hospitable entertainers was our fellow-traveller and two of her daughters. Her husband was a country sq ire and magistrate, with a considerable estate, a staunch friend of the king, a truly charitable friend of the poor, and a terror to poachers and other evil doers. His hospitality was most hearty, his loyal songs were uproarious, his ale was honest and potent, and no one doubted that his happiness was complete when his guests were oblivious of all the ills of life. Our new friend Powell, albeit small in stature, was great in soul, and enthusiastic in admiration of what the English call fine women-weighing not less than a hundred and sixty pounds, nor less than five feet eight inches tall, and with looming complexions. His ideals of female beauty were the statues among the Elgin marbles which are distinguished by the utmost fulness compatible with beauty. In the dark days of November and December, when he could not see to paint, he used to go to the British Museum, to admire and adore these statues, and many a time had he been detected with his little arms thrown around them with the ardor of a lover, praying in heart if not in head, that they might come to life, or at least, that there might be spirits within them conscious of his adoration. Mrs. Graves, our fellow-traveller, had fallen much in love with Powell, and he, in return, fell much in love with her eldest daughter, Bessy, and she wasn't insensible to the qualities which made Powell agreeable to all who knew him. Before she saw him, she had been prepossessed by the warm commendations of her mother, and when her mother introduced him as the gentleman who had been so exceeding |