The Argosy — page 232: what you’re looking at

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

Under Northern Skies. 215 little aisle, bunches of heather and flowers were propped in the old- fashioned pews, just as the holly used to be propped in our own churches at Christmas—and may still be found here and there in districts where time has stood still, and people are yet delightfully simple and refreshing. Here, to-day, the church was loaded with flowers and heather, and decorated with a green arch under which the happy pair must have passed out upon a world henceforth to be fairer than ever to them. ‘The flowers, dead and drooping, looked sad, emblems as they were of mortality. When I remember all The friends so linked together, I’ve seen around me fall Like leaves in wintry weather ; I feel like one who treads alone Some banquet hall deserted, Whose lights are fled, Whose garlands dead, And all but he departed. Unbidden, the words came uppermost ; they had no business to do so. There ought to be nothing here suggestive of sadness, and probably farthest from sadness were this happy Phyllis and Corydon. The altar rails were also loaded with decorations, and the rude chandelier suspended from the ceiling. It all relieved the heaviness of the interior, which, though no doubt quaint and singular, was not beautiful. The old sexton or clerk, who kept the keys, was anxious to show us the belfry and the bells, of which he seemed as proud as if they had been a regalia. He begged us to try the tones, and there went ringing out upon the still air a startling peal. The Vicarage was hard by, and if the good parson was at home, he would know well what it meant. Not analarm of fire; or of an enemy approaching by sea to take captive the flourishing island ; not a passing bell to tell of a soul winging its flight to eternal regions; but merely his old clerk—he must have been eighty at least—showing off his treasures in pride and fulness of heart. ‘There appeared no one else to terrify. The broad fields around were deserted. Far off, through the opened shutters, one caught sight of the shimmering sapphire sea. Below, at the little gate of the church, our Jehu was stretched lazily upon his box, indifferent to bells and circular churches and life in general. ‘There was neither romance nor simplicity about him. But then he came from Ronne, the capital of Bornholm: and Ronne was the least interesting spot in all the island. We left it all behind us. The church with its dead oe sl of happiness ; the bells, on which we had rung a peal for very joy ; the Vicarage, with the Vicar at a window, staring at us with a kindly smile, and making us a polite bow as we departed, wishing us, we felt quite sure, God speed in his heart ; the old custodian who COMmMICooOOKS.€O© mn