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

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

a7 NUMBER, “EWEN LY -FIVE. a OSTHAVEN.—The Imperial Hotel. Unequalled as a winter resort. Tariff moderate.”—-I dropped the paper and medi- tated on the advertisement. Across my fancy there came a sudden whiff of the salt sea-breeze, a vision of the wide grey tossing expanse of waters, a sound in my ears of the soft crashing pebbles on the wet brown beach. I had been smothered, poisoned by weeks of London fog. My eyes were tingling, my lungs choked, my ideas muddled. The more I tried to paint the stronger grew the conviction that, unless I let my pictures resolutely alone, I should have nothing fit to send in to the Spring exhibitions. I felt bothered, miserable, grimy to the bone. “T’ll try a week of Losthaven,” I suddenly decided. ‘‘Second-class tariff, railway fare included, won’t ruin me. [Ill make studies ot wintry seas and skies if I can find nothing else. I'll start to-day!” In ten minutes I had reduced the room to chaos, rummaging out sketch-blocks, brushes, waterproof garments, and a spare suit. In half an hour I had packed and was slowly and painfully wending my way station-wards ; cabby walking invisibly at the horse’s head. We crept out of London by degrees with much whistling and signalling. Black fog enveloped us till we crossed the river, then rows of buildings loomed more and more distinct of outline and paler of tint as they became more scattered, till the brown fields and bare hedges had the land to themselves. ‘Then came the sun, red and wintry, hailed as the face of a friend long missed and mourned. A soft blue haze hung about the leafless coppices. A robin was singing like mad on a bush of green laurel in a station-master’s garden. I didn't wonder at him. J/ could have shouted too. It was all so fresh, so life-giving, so clean. Colour, light, pure air, and—as evening drew on and dusk was falling—the Sea ! I could see it, grey and tossing in the distance, as I stood on the platform. It boomed in my ears as I, sole passenger in the new Hotel omnibus, was rattled down a bran new road and discharged under the imposing new portico of ‘‘The Imperial.” _ I had expected to be “‘skied” in virtue of my second-class ticket, and was agreeably surprised at my accommodation. It was a little out-lying nook at the end of a corridor, into which opened some of the best suites of private rooms, I found myself the solitary occupant of the coffee-room on de- scending to dinner, though one table was elaborately laid for a large party, and another, close to mine, for two people. ‘Three or four gentlemen dropped in after me, and I presently became aware by a subdued sound of voices and the frou-frou of skirts, that the occu- ECORMMICOOOKS. CO