The Argosy — page 146: what you’re looking at

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

Under Northern Skves. Iar a devoted slave, amiable and obliging throughout. In the end, it is true, he lost his character by charging half as much again as his bargain, and with the inn people to back him it had to be paid under protest. We could not lose our boat and remain behind for the sake of resisting an unjust demand. But it was evident that he had been put up to his dishonesty by the porter, and the two finally went off to a quiet corner to divide the spoil. Our first day’s drive was also one of the most memorable. Bornholm is a scene of overflowing fertility, prosperity and abundance. Every- one seemed well to do. Everywhere barns were filled with plenty and presses burst out with new wine. We were for ever meeting great waggon loads of hay piled high, fresh and crisp and sweet smelling. Everywhere there were fields of waving, ripening, golden corn. We had hardly ever seen their equal. ‘The cherry orchards were legion, and the cherries had only one drawback. ‘They were ripe, luscious, inexhaustible, but generally grew so high as to be out of reach of ordinary mortals. It was vain to ape the fox in the fable: there could be nothing sour about those large, red, glorious berries. Bornholm was veritably a Paradise ; a Canaan amidst islands ; a land of corn and wine, and no less of roses than of cherries. We soon left the town behind us and found ourselves in the midst of this fertile country. The roads, long and straight, were wonder- fully well-made and well-kept, and facilitated one’s progress. Our way led somewhat inland, and the sea to the left was seldom visible. By mid-day we had reached Hasle, our first halting place: a small, primitive village chiefly given over to fishermen. The waters of the Baltic plashed within a few feet of its houses; the brown, sloping, pebbly beach was lively with fishing-boats drawn up high and dry above the tide. Not very much could be said for some of the cottage interiors. ‘They were dark and gloomy, brown and dis- coloured, as if by constant peat fires whose smoke had no way of escape. To look in at some of the open doorways satisfied one’s curiosity without exploring further. Halfdressed children played about the doorsteps, where also lounged mothers and sisters, talking with a gravity which seemed a part of their nature, and staring with great, enquiring eyes at the wayfarers. Some of them were stooping over a washing-tub just inside the doorway; and others, grey-headed old women, whose sun had long passed its meri- dian, knitting stockings, looked up without pausing in their work. But all were distinguished—men, women, and children, clothes and skin, and general aspect—by a dark brown tinge, as if they, too, as well as their little homes, had become tanned by peat smoke. It threw a certain picturesque colouring over all; an artistic effect pleasant to contemplate upon paper, but not so pleasant in close and familiar contact. We called it the Brown Village, and it left upon us a curious, not by any means disagreeable impression. The inn was decent, and the people civil. The house was quiet EGOMINGIOO SS mn