The Argosy — page 137: what you’re looking at

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

Letters from Majorca. 125 one is never very much behind the other. But he goes yet further ; for whilst I discreetly confine my adoration to hills and valleys and the beauties of still life, he, as you have not failed to gather, wastes much time ina vain worship and contemplation of fair Mallorquinas ; especially in their attitudes of devotion, when he becomes, as it were, a silent postulant at the shrine of their hearts and affections. Here, it seems to me, we have a poetical phrase quite worthy of the sub- ject. It is somewhat far-fetched, perhaps, but, I hope, not involved. Let it stand. We reached the extreme height, and on one side looked down into the Valley of Soller, on the other into the distant plain of Palma with its boundaries of sea and sky. We had now to descend the zigzag on the Soller side. Before us, far off, low down, small and indistinct, nestling in the plain, under the shadow of a great and high hill, reposed the town. Yet one could scarcely call it a plain. Soller is so surrounded and shut in by hills that it may be said to sleep in the hollow of a basin. This makes it extremely enervating and depressing, and many of its inhabitants look pale and sickly. Not a few die of consumption. At the top of the zigzag on our downward route we passed a lovely old cross: one of the many crosses one finds here and there all over the island. This is one of the best, and dates back some centuries, but it has met with reverses and is by no means per- fect. As we descended we looked into quite a narrow gorge, full of luxuriant beauty. We are now in the orange district of Mallorca par excellence. The slopes were crowded with these lovely trees, all bearing their graceful fruit. It was not yet ripe, yet sufficiently so to be tempting. So thought H. C. who reaching over the wall after stolen goods, all but overbalanced and came to a bad end. I must, however, tell you, that to pluck fruit as you go along by the road side, is not only permitted, but desired. So I have been informed, and as I occasionally give way to the temptation, I wish to believe it. The fruit, indeed, is exquisite. The scent of the orange perfumes the air; a perfume more delicious than anything we know of in England. Some of the oranges are lying upon the ground, and these we not only look upon as windfalls and legitimate booty, but they are also the best. The ripe apples, you know, fall in the orchard ; and what is true of apples is equally so of oranges. We went downwards, until at length we found ourselves shut in by the hills of Soller. Nothing can be more beautiful and striking than the situation of the little town. If, indeed, it has a fault, it is that it is too closed in and confined by these towering heights. They give you a sense of suffocation : a sort of strait-waist- coat sensation—as far as one can realize what one has never experi- enced: for although, no doubt, like the rest of the world, I have often needed the restraining influence, it has never been applied. comicbooks.com