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Here it presently appeared what sort of freight the noble Britaine, Captain la Roche, was looking for. An argosy of Venice hove in sight, and Captaine la Roche desired to speak to her. The reply was so "untoward" that a man was slain, whereupon the Britaine gave the argosy a broadside, and then his stem, and then other broadsides.
During this period he contributed to the "Lit" a sonnet called "The Clam-Digger" which began: At rosy dawn I see thine argosy; and which closed with the invocation: Fair tides reward thy long, laborious days. The sonnet was neatly parodied in the "Record," and that journal printed a gratuitous defense of the fisherman at whom, presumably, the poem had been directed.
The next day he saw the manager, but nothing had been done, and the affair seemed to be hanging fire again. In the evening, while he was talking it over with his wife in a discouragement which they could not shake off, a messenger came to him with a letter from the Argosy Theatre, which he tore nervously open. "What is it, dear?" asked his wife, tenderly. "Another disappointment?"
The wind is rising, and the wind and I are rough playmates! What do you say to my voice now? Do you see my foaming lips? Do you feel the rocks tremble as my huge billows crash against them? Is not my anger terrible as I dash your argosy, your thunder-bearing frigate, into fragments, as you would crack an eggshell? No, not anger; deaf, blind, unheeding indifference, that is all.
"There is a depth in that boy's heart," said the sage, "which might float an argosy." "Poor dear boy! I think we have put everything into the knapsack that he can possibly want," said good Mrs. Riccabocca, musingly. "They are strong, but they are not immediately apparent." "They are at the bottom of the knapsack." THE DOCTOR. "They will stand long wear and tear."
The break in the density of the woods served to show the mountains, blue and purple and bronze, against the horizon; an argosy of white clouds under full sail; the Cove, shadowy, slumberous, so deep down below; and the oak leaves above their heads, all dark and sharply dentated against the blue. Hite had suddenly drawn in his horse. An eager light was in his eye, a new idea in his mind.
She was still the same simple child-like soul, wearing the mystical halo of spiritual dreams rather than the brazen baldric of material prosperity and he, bitterly seasoned in the hardest ways of humanity, felt a thrill of compassion as he looked at her, wondering how her frail argosy, freighted with fine thought and rich imagination, would weather a storm should storms arise.
The true argosy of memory is not facts, but a perfume compounded of all the sunsets we have ever seen, all the joys and friendships, pleasures and sorrows we have ever known, all the emotions we have felt, all the brave and mean things we have done, all the broken hopes we have suffered. To have lost that argosy is to be dead, no matter how healthy an appetite we retain.
Otway, while taking off her things, and watching Anna unpack her bag, told of Major Guthrie's home-coming. In simple words she described the little group of people of mothers, of wives, of sweethearts and of friends who had waited at the London Docks for that precious argosy, the ship from Holland, to come in.
He died in 1916. Like Argus of the Ancient Time. MARSHALL, EDISON. Born in Rensselaer, Ind. Moved to Medford, Ore., in 1907. Educated at University of Oregon. In newspaper work till 1916. Now writing for the magazines. Unmarried. Chief interests: hunting and fishing. His first story was, "The Sacred Fire," Argosy, April, 1915. Age, twenty-four. Principal ambition is to get to France.
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