The Argosy — page 139: what you’re looking at

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

On the Wye. ' 127 fury of a French Revolution. A revolution of the elements could have no restraining power. The order was given, and we departed. As we turned from the noble building its antiquated beauty stood out conspicuously. It is an ancient and remarkable structure, this old Court, some portions of it dating back to the reign of one of the Henrys. Its massive walls, almost a yard in substance, have stood the test of ages: and apparently intend to run a race with Time. The pomp of royalty, the strut of pride, the charm of beauty, the luxury of wealth, the rmg of mirth, the wail of despair: all this its. grand old walls have witnessed. Its fine oak panels, its carved beams, its tapestried walls (work of the sixteenth century), all bear witness to ages and generations now long passed away. Its gabled roofs, its mullioned casements, its latticed panes, all seem to bid defiance to the ages yet tocome. Impossible to speak of the wonderful view from its windows. The immense tract of rich and varied country, the exquisite valley, the far-off Malvern hills on the one side, the yet farther off Black Mountains on the other. We have neither time nor space here to devote to a mansion that has its place in history ; that possesses its annals and its haunted rooms, its romances and its every-day records. A long sweep, a continual but gentle descent, and we reach the lodge gate, which finally turns us into the high road. Old Charlotte, who is progressing towards her ninety years, hobbles out of her lodge, swings back the gate, drops a curtsy as the carriage passes through,. and looks after it: doubtless regretting that sundry shawls and * umbrellas conceal the feathers and laces which delight her old eyes whenever the ladies pass her way. Poor old Charlotte has not the happiest or easiest time of it. She has long been a lone widow, which may or may not be a misfortune, according to the temperament of her late spouse. But she has a son whose conduct to his mother must be held up, not as a pattern, but as a warning to the rising generation. -There are times—happily not frequent—when this unworthy offspring pays too deep a devotion to the cider cask, if he does not fall under the influence of a yet more potent spell. At such periods he becomes possessed of the idea that his old mother, though toiling for him night and day, neglects her duty towards him : and that it is expedient to bring her to a sense of her responsibilities by administering a sound castigation to the poor dame. Occasionally she may be seen issuing from her shell, on a fine spring .or summer’s morning, with a halt in her gait, and but one serviceable eye; the other being concealed behind a rampart of rainbow-coloured hues. Happy for the son that he possesses 2 mother, or he and his master would probably arrive some day at a very serious and mutual understanding. But the Court is out of sight, and old Charlotte too; and we! are comicbooks.com