The Argosy — page 138: what you’re looking at

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

"126 Letters from Majorca. Everyone, they say, is mad upon some point; I fear that most ot us are mad upon a great many. The little town itself is wonderfully picturesque: certainly more so than any other town in Mallorca. It is the beauty of age and decay. It looks as old as the hills themselves: nay, older; for these ever renew their youth, and are as juvenile and fresh to-day as when the first upheaval of nature gave them birth. But the town of Soller is grey, ancient and delapidated in appearance, if not in fact. A stream runs through the town crossed by quaint bridges. On either side you have the wonderful old houses full of life and anima- tion: the short and simple annals of daily existence. The stream has run shallow, waiting for the rains which will not come until the turn of the year. The stony bed is partly exposed and looks athirst. Some months ago the swollen stream brought down and washed away a great deal of the walls on either side, and as they have not been restored one looks upon a picture of devastation and ruin—a ruin, however, for which no one is much the worse. Into all this lovely scene we rolled and rumbled in our lordly barouche, scattering wonder and astonishment in our path. It was not a royal progress this time, and H. C. did not bow right and left. In fact, he was evidently anxious and preoccupied, and I saw a look pass between him and the coachman which I could not quite fathom ; but being the most unsuspicious of mortals I thought nothing of it. Wecan only understand Shakespeare by the Shakespeare that is within us. We judge others by ourselves. It is useless to talk about the wisdom of the serpent if we possess only the harmlessness of the dove. Therefore I never suspected H. C. of anything in the way of plotting and planning. So much innocence of intention and guilelessness of character are beautiful traits in this advanced age. We rumbled and rolled through the narrow streets, and the people flocked and stared. The lordly barouche seldom pays them a visit. Those who journey to Soller usually make use of the diligence. It is a most uncomfortable vehicle, without springs, heavily laden ; shakes you to pieces, cramps your legs, and breaks your back, Soller ladies get in with their umbrellas, which they begin by planting firmly upon your toes ; Soller men crush you up into nothing, and suffocate you with an odour of stale tobacco and garlic. I have gone through it all in other places. The ‘people of Soller stared; the little children shouted and hurrahed ; but it was all curiosity, not the respect we generally meet with, Soller is radical, and would like to turn the world upside down, themselves uppermost, of course. The barouche was an object of envy to them, not awe inspiring. Why should we travel by carriage when they could only travel by diligence? This was the key- note to their character. However, it was a change, and we rather enjoyed it. “‘T am anxious to see the beautiful old lady,” said H.C.— hypo- comicbooks.com