A PICTURE-BOOK WITHOUT PICTURES 1113
from the sea "—and they were gone. The stage coach went rattling past. All the passengers were asleep at this beautiful spot. The postilion blew his horn, but he only thought, ' I can play capitally. It sounds well here. I wonder if those in there like it ? "—and the stage coach vanished. Then two young fellows came gallopping up on horseback. There 's youth and spirit in the blood here! thought I; and, indeed, they looked with a smile at the moss-grown hill and thick forest. " I should not dislike a walk here with the miller's Christine," said one—and they flew past.
* The flowers scented the air ; every breath of air was hushed : it seemed as if the sea were a part of the sky that stretched above the deep valley. A carriage rolled by. Six people were sitting in it. Four of them were asleep ; the fifth was thinking of his new summer coat, which would suit him admirably ; the sixth turned to the coachman and asked him if there were anything remarkable connected with yonder heap of stones. " No," replied the coachman, "it's only a heap of stones ; but the trees are remarkable." " How so ? ' " Why, I'll tell you how they are very remarkable. You see, in winter, when the snow lies very deep, and has hidden the whole road so that nothing is to be seen, those trees serve me for a landmark. I steer by them, so as not to drive into the sea ; and you see that is why the trees are remarkable."
' Now came a painter. He spoke not a word, but his eyes sparkled. He began to whistle. At this the nightingales sang louder than ever. " Hold your tongues I ' he cried, testily ; and he made accurate notes of all the colours and transitions—blue, and lilac, and dark brown. "That will make a beautiful picture," he said. He took it in just as a mirror takes in a view ; and as he worked he whistled a march of Rossini's. And last of all came a poor girl. She laid aside the burden she carried and sat down to rest by the grave-mound. Her pale handsome face was bent in a listening attitude towards the forest. Her eyes brightened, she gazed earnestly at the sea and the sky, her hands were folded, and I think she prayed, "Our Father." She herself could not understand the feeling that swept through her, but I know that this minute and the beautiful