The Argosy — page 91: what you’re looking at

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

m8 a STRESS OF WEAT&2S. By tHe Autruor or “ CounTEss VIOLET.” { F course it was very cold, but fine seasonable weather. So said each of the three middle-aged gentleman as they drew themselves up fora final warm at their dining-room fires, waited on by such feminine slaves as happened to exist for them in the shape of wives, daughters or housekeepers. What a hero aman must feel who sees his mittens laid in the fender, his great coat heated, and regretful admiration in the surrounding countenances! Arrived at the Railway Station, and deprived of their natural worship, these three men were just as ordinary, comfortable looking citizens as you could well meet with, They were allstrangers to each other and chanced at the same hour to book themselves for Padding- ton; all doing it cheerily, for how could ¢/ey tell what was going to happen? ‘There was a look of having outwitted somebody—a complacent look—on Mr Dolman’s countenance as he pocketed his ticket and purchased his newspaper. “Ill drop in upon them before breakfast,” he muttered to himself, with a self-satisfied nod. Mr. Weaver secured neither a Zimes nor a Telegraph but the latest edition of a scientific journal. Mr. Podbury supplied himself with Punch, Fun, and Truth; laughter and polite lies being his usual | requirements for a happy journey. Then these three middle-aged gentlemen got into the same first- 5 class compartment, obtained steaming hot tins for their feet, and occupied the minutes, before starting on their sixty mile journey, in rolling themselves in stout railway rugs. The whistle sounded, the _ train moved with a prophetic groan, and each man like a true Briton opened wide his newspaper and shut out any possible sight of his fellow- travellers. An hour later the newspapers are dropped, and the gentlemen are all silently engaged in forming their own private opinions as to the meaning of a very fierce wind that has risen, and is now engaged in blowing snow as fine as sifted sugar through the cracks in the carriage windows. Mr. Podbury, indeed, changed his seat, having a clear objection to being ornamented like a Christmas cake. At last he— the most genial of the three men—spoke. “Never saw such a sky! Full of snow!” “ Humph! think it’s getting thicker?” inquired Mr. Dolman. “Thicker, sir?” broke in Mr. Weaver, solemnly. ‘There are evidences about us that the elements are preparing for a struggle —a great struggle, sir.” At this pronounced opinion from so evidently scientific a man, Mr. ‘ Gomichbooksicom