The Argosy — page 145: what you’re looking at

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

132 The Channel Islands. ‘Quite time you did, ma’am,” replied the conductor, who, to do him justice, appeared not to see all that his words implied. Buta general laugh could not be avoided, and the irate lady strongly sus- pecting that a compliment had not been paid her, took her revenge, and flourished down her umbrella upon her next neighbour’s toes with a vigour that brought at least one heartless laugh to an untimely end. But we are straying from Rozel Bay. The wandering sheep having turned up, seats were resumed ; the driver—who, opposed to the conductor, was somewhat grave and silent— whipped up his horses, and away we dashed up-hill, over the hard, white, well-kept road. We bowled through narrow, picturesque Jersey lanes, where now and then trees overarched ; past old farm-houses with ecclesias- tical-looking gateways in the outer walls in the early English style or the Norman; until, on nearing Anne Port, we swept round by the Druidical remains. The car made no pause, but H. and I had seen and revelled in them on Saturday. They were very perfect of their kind, giving out their influence to a marked degree. ‘Though small, they bear long contemplation, and will take you back in imagination to those far-off times when the Druids were yet a people of the earth, and wor- shipped here in their rude form, but to the best of their lights. Mont Orgueil, now boldly overlooking the sea, had then no existence ; nor yet the houses now scattered about as tokens of life and civilization ; neither the small church that stood in that quaint nook by the road side, symbol and result of Divine revelation. But it was strange, even to mystery, to go back in thought to days when island, and sea and sky were all as now; to that sun which day by day had declined as it was declining now; age after age rolling on- wards with no change in sky or stars, things above the earth or things under the earth : change only in mankind, race giving place to race, and over all, the inevitable law of progress, But to-day the car kept on its way; the travellers seemed satisfied with a passing view. We went on downhill towards the castle, in ful? view of the small town of Gorey, the harbour, and the sea that gleamed and shimmered like the changing colours of an opal. © Then a halt within the precincts of Mont Orgueil. But having gone over it on Saturday we had no desire for a second inspection. So whilst the little band of excursionists (including one or two newly-married couples, who trod upon air) mounted the rugged pathway to the castle, H. and I went off to Czsar’s Tower, and from the picturesque ruin absorbed the beauty of sea and sky, the small harbour with its fishing boats, the long coast line, point beyond point, the more distant French shores. ‘The rocks below us were steep, and broken, and beautiful; round to our left stretched the greensward, a few fisher- men’s cottages bordered the shore. Yet further, stretched out St. Catherine’s breakwater, begun by the government as a harbour, and abandoned after much labour and cost. GEomicbooks.co m