[Bob Strong’s Holidays by John Conroy Hutcheson]@TWC D-Link book
Bob Strong’s Holidays

CHAPTER TWO
9/10

Nellie and I are not hungry like you." Bob's friendly tone, coupled with the sight of the tempting viands, at once removed any of Dick's lingering scruples; and, in another minute, he was gobbling up the sandwiches like a famished wolf--his fellow- travellers looking on with the utmost complacency and satisfaction at the rapidity with which he got rid of them, bolting the little squares of bread and meat one by one.
All this time, the engine was puffing and snorting away as if it had a bad attack of asthma, giving a fierce pull every now and then to the dragging carriages behind it; while, when the stalwart iron horse occasionally loitered in his paces or slackened speed in going round a sharp curve on the line, the coupling-chains would rattle as they lost their tension and the buffers of the carriages behind, going faster for the moment than the engine, would come together with a bang that vibrated through the marrow-bones of all! The scenery altered, too, every instant along the route; the wooded heights around Guildford and Godalming and Haslemere, which the poet Tennyson loved and where he lived and died, being succeeded by a stretch of level landscape, and this again by the steep bare hills encircling sleepy Petersfield.
Presently, a range of downs came in sight, curving away in horse-shoe fashion from right to left, on which were a series of red-brick, detached structures, placed along the topmost ridge at equal intervals apparently, until they were lost in the distance.
As they approached these nearer, Miss Nellie's sharp eyes noticed that on the landward side these brick piles were covered with a slant of smoothly-shaven green turf that contrasted conspicuously with the chalky surface of the sloping ridge.
"What funny things those are!" said she, pointing these out to Bob.
"Are they houses, or tombs, or what ?" "Where, what do you mean ?" asked the Captain, turning round from his contemplation of Dick, who, having finished the packet of sandwiches, was now carefully searching the piece of newspaper in which they had been wrapped up on the chance of there being a few stray crumbs left.
"Why, hullo, here we are close to our destination! Those `funny things,' as you style them, missy, are the Portsdown forts--you are not far out though, in your estimate of their appearance, for they're called `Palmerston's Follies' by the political wags here." "Are we near Portsmouth then ?" said Nellie, peering out anxiously.

"I don't see anything!" "Oh yes, missy, quite near," replied the Captain, also looking out of the window.

"There's Havant just in front.

Don't you smell the sea ?" "Yes, Captain, yes, I do! Yes, I do!" cried Bob and Nellie together, clapping their hands.

"Isn't it nice! Isn't it jolly!"-- Bob, it may be taken for granted, using the latter term of approbation; Nellie adding on her own private account another, "Ah, how nice!" "Well, that's a matter of opinion," said Captain Dresser dryly, his experiences of the fickle element not having, perhaps, always been pleasant ones; but, before he could explain this, the train, with a piercing shriek of warning from the steam-whistle of the engine, glided into the station.
"Hav-'nt! Hav-'nt!" shouted the porters with lungs of brass and voices of leather or gutta-percha.


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