The Argosy — page 339: what you’re looking at

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

Letters from Majorca. 323 the horizon or flecked the zenith. All was golden, glowing, a sapphire sea and sky. Nothing sad or mournful marks our last day. We will throw sadness to the winds. It is so easy to do so in this gorgeous atmosphere—this is really not a wrong expression. We will laugh and be merry ; quaff the muscadel in a stirrup cup; send our spirits up to fever heat ; see only the bright side of life. Our berths are taken, but H. C. declares his intention of re- maining on deck all night. I have learned wisdom by experience and make no remark, The chances are that he will turn in before I do. We have paid our bill in English bank-notes. Will you believe that nothing but our distinguished characters and irreproachable conduct has prevailed upon the landlord to take them? He doesn’t understand them ; scarcely ever saw them; is unconscious of their value. Is not this a sign of the Mallorcan times, and its sleepy dis- position? And is it not charming to have discovered a land so much behind the age, so simple and unsophisticated, so great a contrast to the world in general ? But it is all finally settled. Sefior Don Barnils looks unhappy in his mind ; but necessity has no law, and, having come to an end of our Spanish money, we must pay our just debts in English. Then we go down to the steamer. Yes, what we have heard is quite true. You can scarcely walk on board for the pigs: large, black, fat, grunting, horrible animals. The hold is full of them. Every inch of deck is given up to them. The passengers are no- where and nothing. The few yards of bridge is all they are allowed for fresh air and exercise during the voyage. Even this would no doubt be given to the pigs; but if a sudden storm came on, they would roll over into the sea and be drowned. In truth it is a most wretched, most uncomfortable state of things. So much so that, like the great troubles of life, it can only be met by absolute resignation. And now the whistle sounds, and the moorings are loosened, and the water flashes and splashes, and we slowly move from the shore. The last rope is thrown, the last link sundered. Farewell, Palma. You have given us many a pleasant hour, many a happy day. We owe you a debt of gratitude, and we repay it with affection. And in this instance is it not as in all others: I] y & toujours un qui aime et un qui se laisse aimer ? What would life be if this were not so true? A paradise, with which we should be content for ever. “We clasped hands close and fast, As close as oak and ivy stand— But it is past.” And Palma is past. We are rapidly receding from its diversified shores, more and more beautiful as distance lends enchantment to the view. Grandly and nobly rises the cathedral, its mellowed tone standing out in exquisite contrast with the glare of the white houses. comicbooks.com™