The Argosy — page 147: what you’re looking at

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

134 The Channel Islands. Then round on the soft green turf at the side of the castle, we made our way to the little French-looking village, with its long straight row of houses bordering the quay. We had it and _its little pier to ourselves. It was as quiet as a place abandoned. "No sign of life anywhere, except on the little Government steamer, where the men were rubbing up the brass work in a lazy, good-tempered sort of way peculiar to their kind. Our car rested on its oars in front of the only inn the place seemed to possess—probably more than sufficient for the demands imposed upon Gorey. ‘Ici on loge a pied et 3 cheval,” must have been almost a superfluous announcement ; and certainly the outlook upon the harbour mud at low water was not an enticing prospect. Nevertheless, there was something quaint about Gorey, and the irregular houses at right angles with the long, straight road relieved the stiffness of the better portion of the village. There was a brightness about it; and you had only to cast your eyes upwards at the venerable castle, which literally threw its shadow across the village, and the place at once became not only bright, but romantic, historical, dignified. There was life, too, as we looked now, for the sightseers, with conductor at their head and custodian in the rear, were wending their way down the narrow, broken path, one behind another, like an orderly string of turkeys. A great height it seemed, for the descent to the harbour is steep and abrupt, disclosing wonderful views of extraordinary back-yards, and small gardens that possibly might be- come Arcadias, but certainly were at present waste places. I often think—to digress slightly—that back gardens retired from public gaze are an index to their owners’ minds and characters and will tell you whether they are well or ill-trained. And how important is a well-trained mind, with order and system largely developed ! What a difference it makes to life; not only to the individual, but to those who have to live with him. A place for everything, and every- thing in its place. A time for all things, also. How easily it causes the wheels of life’s machinery to move along; how calmly life’s current flows towards the great sea that awaits it at the end! Down came the little band, and soon we were once more on the wing. Up dashed the car through the village, followed by a posse of urchins who yelled lustily for half-pence, with a persistence that almost deserved reward. We turned round by the coast road, passing amongst other institutions a manufactory for cider, where they were crushing apples with an energy denoting a brisk trade. Oyster’ beds may fail, and coal mines cease to yield, but the earth brings forth abundantly her many harvests, and in spite of the blue rnbbon the world in general has not gone in for total abstinence. Nor do I see why it should. ‘To people are given all things richly to enjoy, if they will only eat and drink in moderation, giving thanks, Vine growers and cider makers may work with energy and without fear. comicbooks,com