The Argosy — page 150: what you’re looking at

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

Under Northern Skies. 135 and Herr Oster, the landlord of the hotel—Martensn’s—was unable to relieve the monotony of existence by speaking a single word of any other language than his own. ‘The inn, with no pretence to any- thing beyond simplicity, was quiet and comfortable. Yet even here the march of progress has set its seal, and living is twice as expensive in Halmstad as it was ten years ago. The pleasantest and prettiest part of the town was that bordering the river. Here, if you pleased, you might take an oar or paddle your own canoe, and, running up beside the Tivoli Gardens, listen to the band. ‘This Tivoli is the rendezvous of the town, where, of an evening, people meet and repose on benches or stroll about, talk and enjoy music, all in a very unemotional, matter-of-fact sort of way. Tivoli was on rising ground, and from the brow of the hill, where you found yourself on a level with the orchestra, you had a view beyond of a small lake, which seemed the termination of the Nissa, and a large white house, reposing in park-like grounds and embowered in spread- ing trees. : Within a few yards of Tivol, its little crowd and sweet strains, is the one antiquity of the town: an old gateway, massive and not beautiful, but still worthy of the honour due to great age. Some time ago a barbarous town-council decided that it only cumbered the ground and must be removed ; but the inhabitants rose in a body with such determination that the council, in terror for their very lives, reversed their decision, and the gateway was saved. It is seen from far down the principal street, and gives it a quaint interest and a dis- tinctive character. The next morning arrived almost sooner than it was welcome. At six o’clock a watchful attendant appeared with a long, unintelligible sentence, evidently having one end and aim: to proclaim the fact that trains and tide wait for no man. But this is not quite the case in Sweden. ‘Trains do wait beyond their time, and will even put back for anyone who may be seen struggling up a road, or frantically waving a red cotton umbrella from a distressed vehicle. This morning it started punctually: a short train, with about three carriages and half a dozen passengers. It was a tedious journey of about four hours, and a distance, I think, of about fifty miles. Stoppages were endless, waste of time deplorable, considering the rapidity of the age. How is it pos- sible to realise the days of our grandfathers, who travelled by coach, and thought as much of a journey of two hundred miles as one now thinks of going round the world? ‘They prepared for such a journey by making their wills and setting their houses in order; but who dreams of making his will on taking a trip even through the North West Passage? They must also have possessed largely another quality, those forefathers of ours—that virtue of Patience, which seems to be dying out in this nineteenth century, and will probably expire altogether in the twentieth. COMIC OOO SS) (C©) im