The Argosy — page 391: what you’re looking at

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

370 Under Northern Skies. hand is a Gothic arch, also part of a ruined church, standing almost alone, full of refinement. On your right, carrying your eye upwards, you observe the encircling walls with all their towers. Most con- spicuous of all, because so different in style, are the minarets of the cathedral, which throw an Eastern glamour and atmosphere over the whole town. The streets are, many of them, full of an interest of their own. They are built without plan or design ; narrow, tortuous, up and down hill, horribly paved, yet of great charm: the charm of antiquity. Some of the houses date back to the Middle Ages, and remind one of Nuremberg. But Nuremberg, wonderful as the old town is, has none of the charm of these ruins, which make of Wisby an artistic Gothic paradise. What matter if the rest of the island be comparatively barren and deserted ? Within the walls of Wisby you are independent of all outer influence. If you have not nature, you have art in perfection, in its most beautiful and refined, most rare form and aspect: the beautifying and decaying work of centuries. Ruins that are perfect, because hitherto untouched by renovation. To walk the streets in thin boots is an expiation severe as any practised by ancient monks. ‘The hired carriages, clumsily built, tear up and down the narrow, stony thoroughfares with a crash that would wake the dead. ‘They cut corners short, and swirl round curves as if pursued by a legion of demons. You are sent flying right and left in your seat, with a vengeance that would shake the very teeth out of your head, and are only saved from shipwreck by a vigorous clutch at the woodwork ; just as a despairing rider hangs on to the mane of his horse. Happily you are soon out of the town, away in the open country, where your shattered frame has some chance of recovery, and your ruffled plumage gradually settles down. The climate is very mild, and many flowers fruits and vege- tables grow here that find no place elsewhere. We landed on market day, and market is held in the old square, under the walls and shadow of the cathedral. Buyers and sellers were diligently at work. Country barrows, drawn by donkeys and the small horses for which Gotland is famous, groaned under their weight of wares. Small, sour cherries, abundance of currants and gooseberries, splendid vegetables, blushing and blooming flowers. ‘There was much fish also, very good of its kind. Half the market-place was given up to ironmongery, and crockery and pottery spread out on straw for the temptation of extravagant housewives. ‘There was a sound in the air of many voices, and the donkeys frequently brayed as if deter- mined not to be outdone in this matter. ‘The people were quaint and countrified, but clean and healthy looking, and many of the women wore curious head-dresses and gold ornaments. Most of these had come in with their poultry and butter and eggs; small eggs, worthy of the very small fowl that lay beside them. GOMiIGDOOKSHGO m