The Argosy — page 150: what you’re looking at

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

\ 138 On the Wye. be conceived. Immediately before us the great red cliffs presented their rugged faces ; at their feet the silvery river ran. Looking down- wards we had an amazing extent of verdure, and longed to creep into the shade of the trees from the hot glaring sunshine. For several miles the river could be traced, winding beneath its picturesque banks and cliffs. To the left was Berkeley Castle ; to the right the town of Chepstow, with its fine ruin; and beyond it a grand view of the con- fluence of the Severn and the Wye. Far away, like a silvery patch, we could just see the Bristol Channel, and Penarth Point, near Cardiff, with the Steep and Flat Holmes, There, some time before, one of us had spent a turbulent ten days, tossing and chopping about on the rough water : waiting, not for tide, but for a fair wind to carry the good ship right out to sea on her voyage to the Cape. Even as we looked the hot sun was dispersing the mist, and each moment brought some more distant object into view. But time was passing, and we could not wait for the full grandeur to be revealed. With the veil half raised we left it, and soon found ourselves back in Chepstow. Here a catastrophe awaited us. At Monmouth A. had proved as good as her word, and having ex- pended as much in China—old Worcester, old Deift, old Dresden—as would have repaired for a whole month the ravages of an hotel bill, the treasure was carefully packed in a wine case, and, upon leaving, as care- fully placed in the carriage. At Chepstow, the case being somewhat cumbersome, the head waiter begged permission to place it in an alcove in the hall, promising to be answerable for its safety. I weakly yielded to the demand—and paid dearly for the weakness. About to leave the hotel, I went down in search of the china. It had disappeared. The head waiter was summoned ; the mystery was investigated, and brought to light. A large picnic party had that morning gone off to Tintern Abbey, carrying with them well-stocked hampers and a large case of cham- pagne. But through some oversight or carelessness of the waiters the champagne had been left in the hall, and the box “of rare and valuable old china ” had been taken off in its place ! Our own vexation may easily be imagined. But can the reader picture the dismay, the horror and disgust of the picnic party, who, parched with hot travel and dusty roads, burning for a draught of refreshing, sparkling wine, broke open the case and found—nothing but a collection of what, to them doubtless would seem, the ugliest plates, jars, and teapots the whole universe contained ! We, of course, trembled for our prize—trembled lest the rage of the whole party, taking an insane bent, should send back our china in a very multiplied and fragmentary form. Nothing could be done. It was small consolation to remonstrate with the head waiter, who in his turn shifted the blame on anyone but comicbooks.com