The Argosy — page 394: what you’re looking at

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

The Channel Islands. 371 rough exception ; but he had “travelled,” and in extending his know- ledge of mankind perhaps had lost his simplicity. Moreover he had not ‘‘stuck to his last,’ but had renounced his trade in favour of farming, had waxen fat and abundant, and was not to be lightly esteemed. Finally, we bearded the lion-in his den at feeding time, and the steam from a savoury mess of pottage rose from the table like incense upon the air. So perhaps irritation and abruptness on the part of the Cobbler of Sark were to be overlooked. There were extenuating circumstances: Ventre affamé n’a point d’oreilles. The exterior of the miller’s house, like himself, was comely to look upon. A small garden led up to the creeper-laden porch. Flowers abounded, as they do in so many of the Sark cottages; large tree- fuchsias, calceolarias, and hydrangeas; plants blooming in the open air that in England we find often only in hothouses. It gave the habitations a refinement that lifted them above the ordinary level of their kind. They were evidently well cared for; their owners took pride in them; the inmates themselves must be out of the common. Here and there an aspiring attempt had substituted for its lattice a plate-glass window, but it was out of keeping with its simpler surroundings. But with the miller all things were in harmony, and the interior, as neat as a new pin, as orderly as a museum, announced the careful housewife. He seemed happy as a king, scarcely knew an idle day, had many hungry mouths to feed. We offered him our sympathy in his matrimonial responsibilities, but it was lost upon him. He was one of those men whose contentment is a continual feast. They are the greatest of philosophers, and in passing through life, it is doubtful if they have not the best of it. These cottages, with gardens well-tended and flower-laden, are one of the features of Sark, where features, beyond those bestowed by nature, are limited. There are a few better houses—such as that inhabited by the doctor—and then we come to the Seigneurie. The Seigneur of Sark is lord of the manor. It was intimidating to be told, before going there, that he had complete power over the inhabitants ; was a despotic monarch ; could try cases at will, pass sentences, imprison, hang, behead. In short, he might have been to the full-grown imagination what Bluebeard is to the youthful fancy. Fortunately for our peace of mind, we could not discover that there was any prison upon the island, and we certainly saw neither block nor gibbet, nor chamber of torture. Moreover, we felt persuaded that to the people of Sark the greater crimes of the Decalogue must be unknown. The infirmities of human nature no doubt are theirs ; some of its faults, follies, and foibles ; but it was plain to any physiognomist that here they drew the line. The Seigneur, as administrator of justice, can be acquainted only with ‘ maiden sessions,” and if he is not presented with the customary white gloves, it must be that the primitive Sercquois know nothing of the GOMIIGDOOKS (EO)