The Argosy — page 315: what you’re looking at

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

294 Letters from Majorca. It was a very animated scene, though not exactly one of pomp and pageantry. ‘The crowd was actively employed, each doing his. best for himself and his household. The air was full of sound. It seemed to vibrate about our ears. The arcades threw over all a quaint, old-world look. From windows above them people looked down upon the stir and bustle. One of the houses is a Palma hotel; but I should hardly care to patronize any room or inn overlooking the market. For after a certain hour, crowds diminish, buyers and sellers dis- appear, stalls are deserted until next morning or next market day ; the emptiness is formal and depressing. It is ever thus with all places where crowds congregate: inevitable contrast and reaction. Empty spaces are peopled with ghosts, re- minding one forcibly of a day when we too must find our chair empty, our place filled by another ; content, it may be, if we live in the remembrance even of one heart. If only one glance kindle, one pulse beat more quickly at the recollection of the touch of a vanished hand and the sound of a voice that is still. If even one hand will lay its tribute of affection on our tomb when by all else in the coming years we are remembered no more. So you see that our visit to the market was not a case of ‘ Love’s Labour Lost,” but would bear frequent repetition. H.C. at once plunged into poetry, inspired even by the unfermented juice of the grape ; but on this occasion I spare you. In fact, my memory fails me. His flight was too exalted, the scene too remote. Nothing less than Olympus, where he mixed up gods and mortals, fruits and flowers, nectar and ambrosia, in great bewilderment and _ utter disrespect. | After this, H. C. went off to sketch an old corner bit he had rather fallen in love with; a picturesque building, which holds what looks like a town well or reservoir. But before reaching it we came upon another wonderful court, or rather set of cloisters, and were amazed at their beauty. H. C. abandoned the idea of the old well on the spot, and began to work away at the cloisters. They are oval, with wonderful pillars and arches in the Renais- sance style. Half way up, a gallery runs round them, leading to various habitations and a small church or chapel. The pavement was enlivened by flowers and evergreens in earthenware jars. They probably date back to about the sixteenth century—the cloisters, not the evergreens—and we felt, indeed, far removed from the present time while gazing upon these records of a past age. But the enclosed sketch will give you a better idea of them than any descrip- tion of mine. You will observe the beautiful pillars supporting the round arches, but you cannot realize the perfect oval of the court, and its singular look of age and refinement. On our way, we passed the Town Hall. It is one of the remarkable conniclooks (EO)