The Argosy — page 138: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

126 ON THE WYE. By the Author of ‘A NIGHT IN A MONASTERY.” HE following pages ate but an outline of a few days’ progress through one of England’s loveliest spots. Some day, perhaps, the picture may be filled in more completely than is now possible. We started from the Court in an open carriage and a shower of rain: a somewhat untoward conjunction of circumstances. This was not encouraging as a commencement. For some time past the weather had been gloriously bright and beautiful. Now, on the very day of departure for the marvels of the Wye—capricious as a coquette who distributes her smiles and favours by the rules of contrary—it had changed countenance. In the morning alternate clouds and sun- shine : corresponding variations in the barometer of our hopes. At noon clouds, but no sunshine: corresponding depression in said barometer. And now, on the very point of setting out, downfall of rain and total eclipse of quicksilver. It became a debateable point whether to start in spite of this, or remain at home, and await that very uncertain alternative—a more favourable opportunity. E., ever ready with an answer or a suggestion, spoke first. “Let us risk it by all means,” she counselled. “If you put it off, you will not go.at all. Unless you start to-day, 7 cannot accompany you. On Monday, you know, I am due on a visit to Fairford. I cannot put that off any. longer. The weather will clear.” This sounded reassuring. “Besides,” said J., taking up her parable, “you have written for rooms at Ross and Worcester, and you will have to pay, for them whether you occupy them or not.” J. is an authority in matters of social economy. Had chance made her a man, she would have been a great political economist, and would certainly have risen to be Chancellor of the Exchequer. This is a gift no sensible person would despise. *¢ Again,” remarked A., whose temperament at all times inclines her to indulgence in the dolce far niente, “it seems a pity that all our plans and trouble should be thrown away. Yes, we had better risk it.” At this moment an exclamation of dismay, accompanied by a startled look, broke from all three simultaneously. “You forget! Our best bonnets! Our dresses for Sunday! They have all been sent to Worcester, with E.’s whole luggage! That quite settles the question.” I felt that the die was cast. Nothing more need be said. Where haves of bonnets” are concerned, ladies would brave the fire and » Ns comicbooks.com