The Argosy — page 252: what you’re looking at

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

A Satlor's Wooing. 237 bered that it was ‘‘Take me or leave me; now or never;” so she obeyed. ‘‘ Tmpossible,” said the ladies. “Thursday at latest,” cried Shon. “I’m going in for my master’s examination Friday.” Monday morning he was off by train. “How slow she is. I’d run the Mary Ann against her,” he ex- claimed. Still she, the train—why are all fast things feminine p—conveyed him eight miles in less than three quarters of an hour, stopping at every inter- mediate station. No sooner did they reach the market-town than he ran breathlessly up the steep hill—half a mile at least—till he reached a large house at the summit. He rang a big bell at the gates impera- tively, and when a smart maid appeared, said, “Ts Dr. Matthias at home?” ‘No, sir; he’s gone out for the day, and won’t be back till to- morrow morning.” Shon uttered a very impatient word ; yet was not indifferent to the ‘‘ sir,” which was due to his handsome face and smart uniform. ‘‘Good morning, miss,” he said, politely, and ran down the hill again towards the station, muttering, “‘ If I can’t get it here, I can else- where. Parsons are never in their ship.” ~ “Next train for Carmarthen?” he asked, when he arrived. ‘Train just gone, sir. Another at 2.30.” Poor Shon used a naughty word, and began to pace the platform as if it were deck. He managed to console himself, nevertheless, with what he still called a “ noggin ” of ale, or so, until the appointed time ; then tumbled into the train. He reached Carmarthen in about an hour, then took another running walk in double quick step, up and down hill and through many streets, till he arrived at a comfortable vicarage house, and again rang imperatively. ‘Parson at home?” “No, sir; gone to a clerical meeting. Won’t be back till late.” ‘Dash my buttons if it ain’t enough to worry a whale,” cried Shon, rushing back to the station. He was more fortunate this time, for a train was about to start. “ Llanelly ?” he cried, frantically. “Yes, sir. Change at Ss ‘Never mind where. When are you off?” “Directly, sir. Quick.”’ In rolled Shon. It was between five and six when they arrived at Llanelly. Here he was at home, for there were docks and shipping. But what were they to him at that supreme moment? ‘“Here mate! sixpence—a shilling to show me where the parson lives,” he cried to a sailor lad. COnniiclooolxs (CO)