The Argosy — page 234: what you’re looking at

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

The Channel Islands. 219 had echoed with the words of vigorous intellect, flashing wit, gay humour; the love and laughter of youth. All this had passed away, and ghosts lurked in their places, in every corner and crevice of the old house. The prettiest and most luxuriant parts of Guernsey seem to lie round about the town itself. Here, by degrees, you. discover valleys and green slopes and fair lawns and exquisite flower-gardens. Many houses are well placed within the shelter and seclusion of their own grounds, and form what might be called estates in miniature. Here and there you come upon a row of quite fine trees, refreshing after the barrenness in this respect of Jersey. One or two of the gardens are open to public inspection, and are worthy a visit. Their immense con- servatories contain rare plants, flowers, and ferns; and luscious grapes hang from above in all the tempting beauty of their purple bloom. Ferns are one of the charms of Guernsey, as you presently find out. They grow in the water-lanes, adorn the banks, and lurk in the crevices of the rocks. A goodly collection of these might easily be made, but for the difficulty of arranging them, keeping them, trans- porting them beyond the Channel. Some people have a natural apti- tude for making light of such troubles. They overcome them with the greatest ease. To us, we humbly confess them insurmountable. We are one of those who would rather govern a kingdom than tie up a parcel. In these days could a more emphatic assertion be made? The water-lanes are one of the chief features in the scenery of Guernsey. Imagine a rugged, picturesque lane, leading to the shore. In the centre is arunning stream, and the water purls down with a rippling sound suggestive of music, and laughter, and Undine. It twists about in its course, like a snake. The bed is shallow, and the stones are smooth and polished. Ferns grow in abundance, and charm the eye with their fresh green beauty and grace. Many people, no doubt, could no more pass them than neglect a diamond lying upon the road. The hedges add much to the beauty and rustic effect of the water-lanes—where hedges are: sometimes the lanes are bounded only by unromantic stone walls. In summer-time these lanes must possess a great charm, but in winter they are somewhat difficult to navigate. They get muddy, and you stick in the mud; sometimes with both feet; and you feel as if you had been suddenly attacked with locked-jaw in the wrong place. A lady will all at once find that she has lost one of her galoshes, and looking back will see it about ten yards up, comfortably reposing in a species of dry dock, a cradle of mud. Possession is regained at great risk, the sacrifice of a pretty boot, the gratifying display of a small foot. Then a water-lane will suddenly terminate in a broad view of the cliffs and the splendid sea. You stand upon the breezy height and drink in the pure air. Mind and body seem to expand under the influence. The gorse under your feet is soft to the tread; the brilliant sea, with all its colours, lies below and stretches far away. CONNIE OOO KS (EO)