The Argosy — page 63: what you’re looking at

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

50 A Night in a Monasteiy. The journey was monotonous, the scenery tame, until we drew to-. wards Grenoble, when it changed its aspect, and we g¢ntered the valley of the Istre, one of the most beautiful and fertile in France: luxuriant and abundant in vegetation. Here, it is surrounded by the Alps, many of which are cultivated and tilled far up the heights, yielding a rich produce. The crops for the most part are corn, clover, and hemp: the latter, for which the valley is celebrated, growing to a great height. The luxuriant beauty of the valley is only apparent when vegetation is advanced; when the fruit trees are in blossom ; when the wind sweeps lightly over the waving ears of corn; when the vines are laden with their rich, graceful bunches. Each successive month and season brings its own peculiar harvest to perfection. The vines here are, for the most part, hung from tree to tree, in festoons, and are trained over wooden treliis-work ; a more picturesque mode of cultivation than running them up poles, as in the vineyards of the Rhine, and after the manner of our English hop-gardens. But even this is still infinitely inferior in effect to the vineyards of Southern Tyrol and Italy. It was only when very close upon Grenoble that the old town un- folded itself. A great precipitous mountain buttress stood forth most provokingly in the way. But at last, at half-past eleven, the train steamed noisily and languidly into the station. I found myself by no means sorry to part company with so much irritating inactivity. “ Now for it!” thought I. Surprises are the lot of man, and my friends who, when they thought of me at all, thought me safe in Eng- land (I had not even sent them word that I was in Paris), would be somewhat astonished this morning. It was midday, and they were seated at déjefiner when I rang the bell. Quietly putting aside the astonished waiting-maid who answered the summons, and who afterwards confided to her mistress that for doing so she had at first thought me “le plus joliment malhonnéte monsieur qu’elle avait jamais de la vie vue,” I opened the door of the salle-A-manger and walked in. Ghosts do not move with a clatter; neither, as a rule, do they appear in travelling gear, with begrimed faces and disordered locks: but as I stood there for a moment, motionless, taking in the scene and bar- barously enjoying their consternation, I know that in the first instance, without stopping to reason, or weigh probabilities, they did both in- sanely and wildly believe that they beheld a spectre. “Mon frére!” (This exclamation should by rights be printed in largest capitals. Nothing less could give any idea of the tone or look by which it was accompanied. And this would do it but faintly.) At the same time H. dropped his knife and fork, sprang up, and turned pale as whitewash; his jaw, I thought, was about to fall, his eyes to close; and I, alarmed, felt half inclined to send the gaping waiting-maid for a doctor, when H. came to. Hands were clasped; hearts beat with pleasurable emotion; his pretty wife came round and GEomichbooks.co