The Argosy — page 65: what you’re looking at

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

52 In the New Forest. comfort of a metropolitan hotel. Not gilded staircases, of course, or marble corridors; not painted ceilings or silken hangings ; but large, comfortable bed-rooms and excellent beds, one capital sitting-room upstairs, and one or two smaller ones below—and no man in his travels should ask for more—and few will get as much as they will find at the Compton Arms. But the charm of the place is in its isolation, and because it is in the very heart of the Forest. You may go out and in five minutes find yourself in the depths of the silent woods, surrounded by lovely glades and avenues and long vistas of trees, the bracken crackling and crisping under your feet, the falling leaves rustling (if 1t is autumn) as you stir amongst them, with a sound so exhilarating, which you enjoy just as much as the very children themselves—yourself the greatest child. And, I have said, all this silence, solitude and beauty are so re- freshing, so restoring, after the exhausting life and labour of the world: whether it be the labour of work or of pleasure—the midnight oil of study or the midnight blaze of dissipation. ‘To run down from London and take a week of this life, or even a few days, makes a new man of you. The gloomy thoughts and dark forebodings, the restless longing for something different—we hardly knew what in our unrest—all disappear. ‘The mind resumes its tone, nerves and body are re-braced ; you wonder what could have been amiss a week ago. If you are a good pedestrian, you may take long walks ad libitum ; a fresh walk every day ; or if inclined for a gallop across country, you may join the meet and come in at the tail of the hunt if a ee at the death. And winning this tail will do you just as much suit and service, from a healthful point of view, as if you had won the other. This one, too, you may keep; no one seeks to deprive you of the honour ; but the other you would probably feel bound to offer to those bright eyes, those loosened locks and glowing cheeks, “ flushed with the hue of health,” in all the attraction of ‘‘ maiden meditation, fancy free,” that came in only a few seconds behind you—perhaps to be fancy free no longer. Oh! beware! beware! The next morning, how different and glorious was the view from the windows of the inn. Once more I thought how far better was its situation than if we had been down in a hollow, in a relaxing air, surrounded by overshadowing trees and falling leaves—influences so depressing—and all the village sounds of life and boisterous merri- ment and daily labour, that in rustic settlements stand out with such startling emphasis. In place of the dark pall stretching last night over the valley and rising beyond, this morning there was a magnificent sea of leaves, ‘“‘ surging in mighty billows,” glinting in sunshine and in all the tints of autumn that are so indescribably beautiful. From the back of the inn the view was very different in character, more pastoral and cultivated. We looked upon rich, far-off fields and well-kept Gomicbooks (C(@)