The Argosy — page 45: what you’re looking at

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

32 Letters from Majorca. and a strong north-easter was blowing. The sea broke over the vessel and drenched the decks. Even the bridge did not escape. There H. C. took up his station, and presently succumbed. The waves were cruel to him in a twofold sense. Before long, he had not only discovered that he was mortal, and that the Joys of Fulfilment are very different from the Pleasures of Hope, but to add to his cup of misery, he was soon wet through and through. He pretended to think it delightful, and I affected to believe him. We must occasionally sacrifice to courtesy. For my own part, waves may beat and winds blow; it is all one; cold, and cold only, finds out the weak joints in my armour. I took refuge in the depths of the lowest cabin, and never moved until safe in Boulogne harbour. The piers stretched on either side like arms of welcome. How many times have they not done so? How many happy hours have we not spent at the Hotel des Bains? The first person to arrest me on landing was the Commissionaire, who made special inquiries after every one, and regretted that I was going straight through to Paris. They are always polite, these people, and would have you believe that your presence makes la pluie et le beau temps for them and for the world at large. ‘This is one of those phrases that are not to be translated, and may be allowed to stand in the original. Twenty minutes were devoted to the buffet, where even H. C. did not waste his time. Nature has great powers of recovery. Old Joseph waited upon us, and regretted the days when “he had the honour of serving Monsieur & l’Hotel des Bains.” To say the truth, I had forgotten his honest old face, and thought of the proverb, ‘‘ More knows Tom Fool,” &c. Joseph, however, was depressed at this want of memory; it was paying him a bad compliment; and the amende honorable had to be made in more substantial form than a mere compliment, bad or good. Presently the train moved slowly towards the station through the lines of shipping in port and basin. ‘The scene you know so well was gay and sparkling as ever. Above the quay and the vessels rose the old fishing town, gray, ancient, dilapidated and picturesque as usual. It was here that, a year ago, I found H. minor mobbed by a crowd of boys who had stolen his kite, and whom he was pluckily tackling single-handed. In the upper town, the cathedral towered, or rather domed, above the ramparts: thin, consumptive- looking, yet finely placed. Through the sluices the water was rushing seawards, and only those who know Boulogne realise the merits of this systematic outpouring of the flood. In the carriage we had a curious individual who had been our fellow traveller from London. His conversation was extremely entertaining ; his adventures were marvellous. This singular being was of “such stuff” as few men are made of ; would have posed as an excellent Faust, a Mephistopheles, a leader in Dante’s Inferno (it ECOMIECOOOKS».E@