The Argosy — page 235: what you’re looking at

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

218 Under Northern Skies. not be heard—lost, perhaps, in the rustle of the leaves: a forest sound that never breaks the forest silence, but makes it seem more palpable. Not a human being was visible; there was no trace of well-trodden paths to mark the presence of man; nothing but soft moss spread like a rich carpet under one’s feet. Here and there a squirrel ran across, and up a tree, and looked down impudently at us from an overhanging bough, with black, sparkling eyes and curled-up tail: dark-brown little creatures, beautiful and graceful, but wild as wild could be. They would not come at our bidding. We had not Thoreau’s gift to charm them. The skipper of our steamer had said there were spots in Bornholm in which one could linger days. It was quite true. We could have lingered days here, perhaps weeks. ‘These sylvan solitudes were inexpressibly charming, and might be varied by the solitude of sea and rocks and caves, almost more charming still. Here nature in all her forms and phases, all her beauty, was at her best. But to linger was not for us, who counted our time by moments, not by days or even hours. We lingered as long as possible in these sunny glades, these whispering trees through which the sun glinted and made pictures upon the mossy paths. Then we went down to the beach, half doubting. Had we tried the old boatman’s patience too far? Would he have departed, and left us to find our way back overland, through brake and briar P No; there was the good old weatherbeaten figure, still resting on its oars, calm as Patience smiling at Grief. He evidently felt there was nothing else for it, but when we appeared he roused up with energy, and steered in amongst the rocks with no little trouble. The sea was even more plashing and boisterous than it had been an hour ago. We had to perform impossible feats in jumping from rock to rock, slippery and sliding as small icebergs, until we reached the boat. ‘Then he pushed out again, and in the broad, smooth sea, in full view of the rocky coast, we returned to our first starting point. On the rocks at the bottom of Jacob’s ladder, gesticulating and impatient, a noisy group awaited our return. How long they had been there, “standing in dangerous paths,” we knew not. We selfishly consoled ourselves with the thought that we had not had to wait, to whom time was precious and moments were golden. As we landed and gave place, we felt—for we did not look—that the eroup glared upon us. Yet we were not guilty of intent. How could we tell that others were waiting? or that there was only one boat for all requirements? As for the old boatman, a substantial fee made him our champion for ever. So we departed with a light heart and a free conscience. We set out once more in the early afternoon. The beauty of the day was uninterrupted. The character of the scenery did not change. The island is very flat about here, except immediately on the sea coast, where—as at Dyndalen—we have seen that it falls COUM (A) eLNOO/ KS,EO