The Argosy — page 43: what you’re looking at

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

Letters from Majorca. 33 my dressing-bag, which, like a cat, has nine lives, and contained all our toilette hopes for the time being, it went circulating round the vehicle in search of an exit, dodged all our efforts to clutch it, until we gave up the chase in despair. The omnibus went near the town, outside the town, everything but into the town, until we made up our minds that this time we zeally were going to be robbed and murdered. You will begin to think that we have murder upon the brain. I assure you it is not so. But though murder is said to be one of the fine arts, it is just one of those things for which there is no remedy. It is better to be on the safe side, if possible. Once more we were mistaken. All at once the driver dashed through a gateway into a narrow street, grey, gloomy and descrted. MANACOR,. This ended in a curious looking square, with tall houses, and, here and there, open, Moorish-looking balconies. Round the corner we soon came to our headquarters, the Fonda de Femenias. It looked unpretending, but proved anything but uncomfortable. Upstairs, the rooms opened from a wide, covered balcony overlooking the street, which also gave to this house a sort of Eastern, open- air, mid-summery effect. It was picturesque with green shutters, creepers, aviaries, small round tables, on which stood more cages con- taining poor imprisoned birds: partridges, intended for killing and eating : for the hotel’s profit and the travellers’ pleasure. Presently, when one was placed before us, dressed and ready for eating, we felt almost like cannibals. It was also the best and most open portion of the town, immediately opposite the old church. We were steeped in the odour of sanctity, surrounded by an ecclesiastical atmosphere. It had its drawbacks, as we presently discovered. VOL. XLIV. my joy (G@ —_ comicbooks.com