The Argosy — page 70: what you’re looking at

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

Three Glimpses at Royalty. 57 him at his ease, and is even said to have tasted the good wife’s bacon and cabbage. Let the story go for what it is worth, which should be much to a home and charity-loving people. The Isle of Wight is delightful even on a grey day in January, and we enjoyed our afternoon drive back to Ryde. The mild winter had let many of the cottage gardens alone, and we were surprised to see roses in bloom on the walls of more than one thatch-covered abode. The laurustinus was in such abundant blossom, that its bushes looked like the “‘summer snow ”’ of hawthorn, and purple veronicas rose hardily from many a bed. Our eyes were even rejoiced by a sight of primroses in pale perfection, and their darker sister the polyanthus, flourished here and there. We were deep ina country road, flanked by towering hedgerows, and arched by interlacing trees. There was no sign of habitation save a few forsaken nests, and no sound of life save the twitterings of their late inmates. ‘“‘T think I see an outrider,” said the coachman suddenly: “no one but the Queen has one, and he always rides a grey horse.” “Tf it were but the Queen! I have never seen her,” said our com- panion. | Another moment, and two grey horses appeared in the distance. As they neared us the coachman again exclaimed, ‘It is the Queen.” We had no time to think of etiquette. Billy and Bobby pricked their ears, the coachman touched his hat, we bowed low, and so we met and passed Royalty. Her Majesty returned us a bow and smile so kindly gracious, that we are never likely to forget them. The Princess Beatrice was by her side, and another lady opposite. They were 1n an open carriage, dressed in mourning, and looked as unpreten- tious, perhaps more so, than ordinary country gentlefolk. They, like ourselves, had probably been talking of the Russian marriage, and wondering how the Duke of Edinburgh and the Grand Duchess would comport themselves on the morrow in imperial Petersburg—wondering, perhaps, how the Muscovite daisy would take root in English soil. We can scarcely yet realize that we met our Queen face to face in that quiet spot; but the picture is stereotyped in our memory: the grey sky, the leafless trees, the green hedgerows, the lonely road, the plain carriage, and Her Majesty’s dignified’ simplicity. LN LONDON. Qn the twelfth of March, the day of the Duke and Duchess of Edin- burgh’s first public appearance in London, we were in the Metropolis. After a clear, frosty, star-crowned night, the morning broke drearily. Everyone was anxious, and astir early, in the prospect of seeing the royal bride and bridegroom. Expectation soon gave place to dismay, for before ten o'clock it began to snow. What of the flags, flowers, GOMNGOOO (GO)