The Argosy — page 225: what you’re looking at

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

208 Letters from Majorca. flourishing—for Majorcans. One came into the dining-room only this morning, of whom I will presently give you a benefit. But many of the owners of these animals are gentle, kindly, and easy to be entreated. ‘They make an occupation, not a companion, of their protégés. When the time for exportation comes, these are so fat that, once down, it is difficult to get them up again. The herds in charge go about the vessel on its voyage from Palma to Barcelona, and poke and prod and stir up the unfortunate animals. with a long wand or pole. They are not allowed to lie down or they might die, but must remain, as far as possible, upright on their legs ; carrying as best they can in the rolling vessel, the weight of their bodies and the consequences of their greediness. Does remorse ever overtake them on such occasions? I don’t know whether pigs, any more than many human beings, have consciences. The decks, I hear, are crowded. Pigs here, pigs there, pigs everywhere. Pigs, in short, are everything, passengers nothing. The noise throughout the night is to be imagined, not described. If this be true, then shall we have a benefit on our return to Barcelona, when that time comes. ‘Then must the Majorcans look to their ways, and not expect their beautiful island to be visited and appreciated until the reign of a better order of things has set in. For it is undoubtedly a beautiful island, with much to attract and allure. Hills and valleys ; the richest and most productive vegetation ; orange groves and oliveyards and vineyards ; the refined and refresh- ing pomegranite in abundance, the green fig in profusion, the prickly pear and the exquisite fruit of the wild arbutus. It has the loveliest shores, the grandest of cliffs, bluest of seas; that everchanging and mysterious main, its expanse a foreshadowing of eternity, its stormy moods a type of our own life, the uncertainty of the fate awaiting those who launch forth upon its waters, an emblem of death. The Mediterranean is beautiful everywhere, but it is especially so in Majorca. | As yet we have only seen it from Palma. Hills and valleys and orange-scented groves, cliffs and caverns: all these for us have yet to come. But I accept in faith what I have heard, and what I hope future letters may confirm. One item I can at once bear witness to—the beauty and abundance of their grapes and apples. These form part of our daily dessert at breakfast and dinner. ‘The grapes are the most delicious in existence. In the market place for the sum of one penny you can burden your- self with a rich feast of them. At table the supply is unlimited. If you take half-a-dozen bunches, one after another, no surprise is felt, no one is shocked—except you who take them. At the third bunch you begin to feel guilty, at the sixth your cheek is suffused with the blush of shame. They are unlike other grapes. Their yellow skins are exceedingly thin, and they contain the sweetest, most refreshing, most whole- CONNIELOOKS.E) m