the
rapid motion of the coach, and the free current of a fresher and more
exhausting air than he had been accustomed to for many months, began to
operate on his nerves like the intoxication of a narcotic. His eyes grew
heavy; indistinct mists, through which there seemed to glare the various
squints of the female Plaskwiths, succeeded the gliding road and the
dancing trees. His head fell on his bosom; and thence, instinctively
seeking the strongest support at hand, inclined towards the stout
smoker, and finally nestled itself composedly on that gentleman's
shoulder. The passenger, feeling this unwelcome and unsolicited weight,
took the pipe, which he had already thrice refilled, from his lips,
and emitted an angry and impatient snort; finding that this produced no
effect, and that the load grew heavier as the boy's sleep grew deeper,
he cried, in a loud voice, "Holla! I did not pay my fare to be your
bolster, young man!" and shook himself lustily. Philip started, and
would have fallen sidelong from the coach, if his neighbour had not
griped him hard with a hand that could have kept a young oak from
falling.

"Rouse yourself!--you might have had an ugly tumble." Philip muttered
something inaudible, between sleeping and waking, and turned his dark
eyes towards the man; in that glance there was so much unconscious,
but sad and deep reproach, that the passenger felt touched and ashamed.
Before however, he could say anything in apology or conciliation, Philip
had again fallen asleep. But this time, as if he had felt and resented
the rebuff he had received, he inclined his head away from his
neighbour, against the edge of a box on the roof--a dangerous pillow,
from which any sudden jolt might transfer him to the road below.

"Poor lad!--he looks pale!" muttered the man, and he knocked the weed
from his pipe, which he placed gently in his pocket. "Perhaps the smoke
was too much for him--he seems ill and thin," and he took the boy's long
lean fingers in his own. "His cheek is hollow!--what do I know but it
may be with fasting? Pooh! I was a brute. Hush, coachee, hush! don't
talk so loud, and be d---d to you--he will certainly be off!" and the
man softly and creepingly encircled the boy's waist with his huge arm.

"Now, then, to shift his head; so-so,--that's right." Philip's sallow
cheek and long hair were now tenderly lapped on the soliloquist's
bosom. "Poor wretch! he smiles; perhaps he is thinking of home, and the
butterf