The Argosy — page 262: what you’re looking at

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

ee s.r Fair Normandy. 243 resisted in vain. Madame was a syren, and in her hands we could only yield to our fate. It was one of our last impressions of Evreux. We had now exhausted the place and were ready to depart. When our time was up we bade farewell to the hotel, to the affable landlord, the electrified waiters, who all turned out in a body to bid us bon voyage. We entered the inevitable omnibus, and once more rattled through the streets of the quiet little town. The station was reached, and we took train for Chartres. In due time its quaint houses rising on a hill, its battkemented gateway, its picturesque stream and its wonderful spires pointing heavenwards, were ours to revel in, and became, for the moment, the delight of our eyes, the theme of our dreams. SOS —, SONNET. ‘THREE names of women on the tragic page Of history shine as letters writ in gold On vellum scroll of legends dim and old ; ‘Three crownéd women who flung down their gage, Amid the din of war and lion-rage Of nations wrath. Says Mary, fair to see: ‘A babe I played with Scotland’s crown. Ah me! The Queen of France was I, and youth and age Still know my name.” ‘ And I the imperial throne Forsook to die amid the rabble throng,” Says Antoinette, so proud and pale. Says Joan, A peasant maid: “I brooded o’er the wrong Of France, till on my virgin brow the crown And golden aureole of martyrdom came down !” JULIA KAVANAGH. CORlIELOO© SS) (©) im