The Argosy — page 143: what you’re looking at

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

130 The Channel Islands. Next came Rozel Bay with a still lovelier view, perhaps because it was more elevated. Here we went over what was called a tropical garden: a pretty, somewhat wild and broken plantation on the side of the cliff. Though the month was October, roses bloomed, and the magnolia spread out its creamy flowers and shed forth its luscious scent. Palm trees and tall Indian grass helped the gardens to their reputation, but we saw nothing much more tropical than this. We entered from below and climbed upwards through winding paths and over miniature bridges until we stood on gorsy heights, and overlooked a glorious view. Breezes came from over the sea, more bracing and refreshing than the sleepy hollow; blooming heather yielded to the tread. Below, warm and sheltered, was the small Rozel Inn, where we were supposed to lunch. The car was at rest in the yard, the horses had disappeared within the stables. The sea, sparkling with loveliest and most vivid colours, came up to within a few yards, and rolled over the sand with a lazy sound intensely soothing and delicious. One could only feel how reviving it would be, what an existence, to stay awhile in this quiet resting-place, come up by day with a favourite book, and lounge away the hours on these breezy heights, revelling in sunshine and blue sky, sea and cliffs, whose outlines might be traced so far. Quite close, white and glistening, looked the coast of France, not so many miles away either, as the crow flies. It was hard to return to sea level; to lose the pure wind of heaven, that swept over the heights and “cooled one’s fevered brow.” Only one other part of Jersey charmed me as did Rozel Bay : Greve de Lecq, to be mentioned by-and-by. The inn was equal to the occasion, had even achoice of luncheons ; and we found a small room just large enough for two, and a table decorated with a snow-white cloth. A maiden, not all forlorn or downcast, attended to one’s needs, and put down in triumph a well- furnished dish of native oysters. But Jersey, it is said, was once more famous for its oysters than it is now. The beds do not yield as they did, supply has not equalled demand. The world, some declare, is getting old and worn out. Yet this cannot apply to its population. That is ever on the increase; and presently it would almost seem that new-comers will have to stand outside the edge of the world, to make room for those within it. Perhaps a new sense will be given them—a power to tread upon air. Rising out of the sea were groups of rocks known as the Pater- nosters, the Dirouilles, and the Ecrehous; and as this coast is one of the most picturesque portions of Jersey, so is it one of the most dangerous. But Rozel Bay is small; much smaller than that of Bouley, which has a fine sweep of its own. Fishing-boats were moored in the little harbour ready to go out with the next tide. The water was so clear and bright+that quite far out one could see the bottom. Shells there were none to speak of, but fragments of rock Eomicbooks.co