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Pulp Fiction, 1865 · page 62 of 400

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The Argosy — page 62: Pulp Fiction, 1865

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49 IN THE BLACK FOREST. By CHARLES W. Woop, AUTHOR OF ‘‘ THROUGH HOLLAND,”’ ‘¢Rounp ABouT Norway,” &c. "ue lights of Queen- borough, few and _ far between, served only to in- crease the gloom and render darkness yet more visible. Faint flashes were reflected aT See here and there on the wet, Se c<Coee smooth platform, and one felt fat Baie, ial : Ee ‘| rather than saw rain falling. =. Se fee egy a A solitary passenger would ue igi (sk have needed as careful pilot- (Mi a. ing as the blind, through the Se a — — > —is Ue | a Ue _ tenebrous ways that led from coy y 07 Ne ip. Y Auta: BN i _ the station to the boat; but Seay 4 Wp A an t yi Hn fine HN ; «Ea 4 i i ie Waa the travellers were Legion, 5 = Ulf Ve sh Ls | HAIN Wil Ze sx ie Tha and followed each other like a flock of sheep or a string of turkeys; or any other N y Mawa.| simile that suggests a com- WF OTN : : YY jee 4 parison between the animal LE ae Yes YY NOW | Fa —— and human world—only the Naa an > > xa SS ™' ’ > SE ASar Ss ‘ } ~ SS \ UR\SS ‘VANS WANS SK SSJ_JJ sheep and the turkeys would an pees Meer. have been far more _pic- HOMES IN THE BLACK FOREST. turesque and interesting. Certainly, when the saloon lights (a blaze of brilliance after the late blackness of darkness) threw their magnificent beams upon the assemblage as it poured down the staircase with a rushing sound as of an artillery charge (we all know the sound and the sequel), a more grotesque group could scarcely have been seen. Englishmen, with loud voices and appar- ently a power of being in all places at once; Germans, with blue spectacles and wide-open mouths; all struggling with huge carpet bags and with each other for precedence. Finally they fell into rank ; a long gueue was formed, and each in his turn received from the steward a ticket and a number indicating his night quarters on board. A bad and unpleasant system to begin with. To have to make one of a string of travellers; to find your neighbour treading upon your heels, digging into your ribs, putting you to torture with the irons of his carpet bag or the edge of his hat box, all thrust upon you with VOL, XXXIII. CORPIC OOOKS Co