The Argosy — page 307: what you’re looking at

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

288 On the South Coast. destination not until past five. Everyone surely needs some special object to take him to Bognor, and mine was to spend a few days with friends who were staying there. ‘The place should be called Bognor-in-the-Marshes, and I failed to find in it many points of interest or recommendation. To begin with, that first evening the elements were all warring together in fierce conflict: the wind and the rain, the sea and the darkness. Such a storm has not often visited our coast. In re- turning to the hotel at night from my friends’ house (it was the first time they had visited the place, and they declared it should be the last), it was almost impossible to fight against the wind and the rain. Not a creature was visible; the place might have been given up to the dead. Either there were no lamps, or they had been blown out by the gale, and the darkness might be felt. The water within a hundred yards surrounding the Norfolk Hotel was a foot high; in the darkness no path could be found, so that I kept going round and round and returning to the starting point, until I began to think the witches themselves had a good deal to do with the fury of the elements. | The next day the place looked dilapidated and dreary—the dreariness of a sea-side place out of season. Not that Bognor, as far as I could discover, is ever very much in season—and this, perhaps, forms one of its few attractions: the possibility of escaping a crowd. Added to this, it looked driven and tempest-tossed, washed out. It is a direct contrast to Bournemouth, being flat, unprotected, and almost on a level with the sea. ‘This, so far—its level beach—makes it a favourable resort for children. It has a narrow, old-fashioned pier, with wide gaps between the boards, which are so many traps for canes and umbrellas, and have doubtless wrenched off. many a lady’s high-heeled shoe (so fashionable and so ugly), to be devoured by the hungry sea beneath. The sea itself was pleasant at Bognor, because it 1s pleasant every- where: but it is especially so when it comes dashing in almost to your very feet, so that at high water you may almost jump from the esplanade into the advancing waves. It rolls up. over the pebbly beach with a drowsy, soothing, monotonous lull. Strange that there should be so great a sense of rest, such a power of calming, in that most restless thing, the ocean! The air of Bognor seemed pleasant also, at this season, but in summer must be relaxing; though it appears paradoxical that any sea-side place should be Biber wise than healthy and bracing. ‘Horrid place!” said N. B., as we patrolled the esplanade like sentinels unattached, while the sea plashed beside us and seemed to set her words to music; and the smallest and daintiest of feet, clad In the daintiest of shoes, and scarlet silken hose that set off a perfect instep and ancles 4 merveille, beat time to the waves. ‘“‘ Horrid place !” she repeated with increasing emphasis. ‘You see we made ECORNIELOOOKS .~E©