The Argosy — page 394: what you’re looking at

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

Letters from Majorca. 371 that the very horses staggered and swerved, and seemed powerless to resist its rush. The very carriage rocked and swayed and appeared about to overturn. And now, indeed, had set in the winter of our discontent: I might even say despair. The hood had been hastily put up, the apron unrolled. H. C. now showered blessings upon the head of our Palma hostess. So did I. It would have been so hard and uncomfortable to find oneself defying the rain with impunity, while H. C. was finding the only suit he had brought away from the hotel, soaked through and through. I suppose but for that, he would have had to waste his Sunday in bed, whilst his clothes were being dried, shrunken and shrivelled at a slow charcoal fire. What an object he would have presented! A species of grown up Oliver Twist at Dotheboys’ Hall. For I also had only brought this one suit with me; and with the most generous intentions you cannot share a suit of clothes as you would an apple or an orange, or even a substantial legacy. Not that I was ever left a legacy to divide, except a piano, once upon a time, which reached me with every atom of its inside taken out. I re- member hammering away at the keyboard for about five minutes, wondering what was the matter ; whether I had suddenly gone stone deaf like Beethoven; and like Beethoven, was drawing tears from others’ eyes by sweet sounds I could not hear myself. But in look- ing round, I saw no evidence of fine feelings aroused: only very open countenances, and blank expressions of amazement. Then it occurred to me to look inside. And behold, some one had taken away all voice from the instrument, yet given it speech: for just at the top, written in pencil, were these words: ‘*’I'were vain to tell thee all I feel!” They had also, in this case, saved me the trouble of division. had taken the oyster and left me the shell. The storm raged. I have never in all my life seen anything to equal its fury. We hoisted our umbrellas, but they did more harm than good. The wind blew a perfect tornado; rain came down in waterspouts. As we struggled up into the hills of Valdemosa and the narrowing gorge, the hurricane increased in fury, the rain swept down the road like a river. We saw that we must be passing through great beauty and grandeur of scenery ; could just discern that the romance of Valdemosa had not been exaggerated ; but every pleasurable sense was swallowed up in vanity and vexation of spirit. And yet the very storm itself was a source of interest and gratifica- tion. It was unspeakably grand, though horribly uncomfortable, and almost overwhelming : blinding us with its force, taking away our very breath. I tell you again that I have never seen anything like it. We swept round into the narrow street of Valdemosa. Every moment I expected that Paolo would stop and order fresh supplies for our commissariat department. But we were at his mercy; had COMICOOOKS.c© An