The Argosy — page 78: what you’re looking at

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

EVE: AN IDYLL. I. Town. AM quite sensible of the advantage of being born “ the heir of all the ages, in the foremost files of time,” and rejoice that I live in the days of railroads, telegraphic wires, cheap postage, and chloroform. But I delight in looking back from my present “‘ vantage ground ” on to the stormy plains of the past, and find it quite refreshing to picture it to myself in all its strong contrasts of gorgeous colour, and striking effects of chiaroscuro—virtue so resplendent, vice so deep in gloom—and the wide distinctions made more conspicuous by all the varieties of costume. It is like turning from a nice smooth painting on papier-maché to a fine rugged old Rembrandt. More especially do I like to pay an occasional morning visit—at no such great distance—to my great, great grandmother ; and I politely offer you a seat in Fancy’s car, if you are inclined to acrompany me on the journey. Those were “The teacup days of paint and patch, And when the hoop was wom,” before steam had “annihilated time and space,” whirling all classes together across country, in one undistinguishable mass—when my lord and my lady lumberedelong in a coach and six, exposed to all manner of dangers from holes and highwaymen ; and Joan and Hodge, if bent on beholding the “ gold-paved streets of Lon’on,” must trudge afoot, or spend days, and even weeks, jolting in a waggon—when upon the smallest provocation swords were drawn and blood was spilt, and many a crime was committed for which the perpetrators were never called to account. Then fine ladies were very fine indeed, and lords were often very foppish, while the rustic peasantry were really rustic, for town or country seemed “‘far as the poles asunder.” The world at home then knew little of what was going on abroad, or not till long after the events had taken place. Special correspondents had never been heard of ; and the newspapers, or newsletters, as they were some- times called, were small affairs indeed ; not, as now, sheets that seem made for the perusal of giants. But perhaps you think it time I should begin my story, if I have one to tell, How I came to know it is neither here nor “there ; I will tell it if you will listen. ic comicbooks.com