The Argosy — page 148: what you’re looking at

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

The Channel Islands. 135 The sun was going down in splendour. All day long the sky had been cloudless. Shadows were falling athwart the landscape, relieving it from the flatness of midday. ‘Tones and colours deepened. ‘The sea rolled in a sort of liquid rainbow. It broke and plashed about the rocks in little eddies and white foam. The train from Gorey passed us and went on its road to St. Helier. Ours was the better way. Nothing could have been pleasanter, more restoring to tired nerves than this travelling through the air hour after hour, with just sufficient stoppage to break the monotony, and give a fresh current to one’s thoughts. Towards five o’clock we found ourselves once more in the busy town. The car dashed through the narrow streets at an alarming pace, and with tremendous clatter. By degrees its passengers were disposed of, and last of all it landed us safe and sound at Bree’s Stopford Hotel. Nothing, from beginning to end, could have been pleasanter than the day. The weather contributed much to this. It was more perfect and Arcadian than weather can often be on earth. The air sparkled with sunshine and light and laughter ; zephyrs blew a soft, intoxicating breeze; one felt in Paradise; an experience only to be found amidst the beauties of nature on such perfect days. Nothing else will give it; not the finest picture that ever was painted, or the sweetest song that ever was sung, or the best poem that ever was written. For he who is in harmony with these beauties seems raised into intimate communion with the world unseen. Evening and table d’hote succeeded to the pleasures of the day. Again we were amused by the manners and customs of the visitors. Newly-married couples were in force ; and the more ancient, who had dreamed their dream, and to whom these days were in the long ago, seemed to enjoy the happiness of those who as yet were not dis- illusioned. That night there was to be a grand representation at the circus, patronised by the élite of Jersey from the governor downwards. It was reported good—and being the only form of dissipation then going on, was extensively frequented. So much so that the manager, out of the fulness of his heart, that night began a little speech by way of re- turning thanks, opening it in a familiar and friendly way with the words “My dear Governor,” in the course of which he grew somewhat con- fused; gave up one evening’s proceeds to a specified charity ; and then, warming with his subject and waxing impulsive, on the spot ex- tended the stay of the circus yet one more evening, “ the proceeds of which should be devoted”—here he came to a perplexed pause, cleverly rounded off at last by—‘“to another charity hereafter to be decided on.” We thought we also would go and see the horsemanship, and laugh at the clowns, and applaud the cleverness of the riders. Accordingly we plunged into the mazes of St. Helier. The night was dark and we were bold. By this time I had found out that H.’s “ bump of locality” was a mere delusion as far as this place was concerned, and I made en- (EONMIE NOOO KS (E(©) m