The Argosy — page 147: what you’re looking at

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

Letters from Majorca. 135 are the most delicious and delicate of fruits, resembling a filbert some hundred times refined. This port of Soller is one of the prettiest spots in the island. All the ports of Mallorca are more or less beautiful. There is such infinite repose about them ; you feel so out of the world. Of bustle and confusion there is none. With the exception of Palma they are all apparently abandoned ; reminding one of the creeks and inlets ot some of the far-away islands in the North Sea; shores that are given up to solitude and rest, and the clang of the wild bird. I never hear the cry of a sea-gull, or catch sight of a cormorant on the wing, or see an oyster-catcher diving beneath the surface, but at once I am transported to those wild and solitary haunts, where amidst the dash of the waves and the echoing of the rocks, and the scream and whirl of myriads of birds, some of my happiest and healthiest hours have been passed. We turned back from the port, down the long, straight road, and past the orange and lemon groves, where the men were still at work and gave us friendly greeting. More picturesque than ever seems the little old town, which really is almost matchless. Looking over the bridge on either side you have the backs of the houses, all forms and sizes. Balconies overhanging, windows large and un- glazed; double roofs where clothes are hanging out to dry; cages given up to the pigeons. The shallow stream runs over its bed, all fury past until the next rains come. Rough and picturesque steps lead down from the walls. Across, there, is one of the large wells, and some twenty or thirty women are all washing and scrubbing for their very lives. An old tree bridges the stream. The church tower stands out boldly, contrasting with those far-off hills. All this H. C. has faithfully reproduced, and I am therefore able really to place the town before you as it exists. But there are a thousand- and-one other and lovely nooks which it is impossible to send you. When we entered the fonda it was growing late. The diligence had arrived. There was a certain atmosphere of bustle and arrival about the inn. We felt that we were invaded. Instinct told us that A. and B. had put in an appearance: for two days have passed since we came to Soller. “IT told you so,” said H. C., triumphantly. “I knew how much they would go to the other fonda, and put up with the beautiful old lady. I really feel quite pleased that we have circumvented them.” This appeared so very improper a frame of mind, that I was about to administer a lecture when A. and B. appeared upon the scene. “ So glad that you have come here,” said A. ‘‘So much more jolly to be all together. Lots of room and any amount of resources.” I could not quite reconcile this statement with what had gone before ; but I am beginning to think there is something strange in the Mallorquin air, and everything I don’t understand I immediately put down to atmosphere, comicbooks.com=