Pulp Fiction, 1865 · page 226 of 400
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Letters from Majorca. 209 it is convict work, one would imagine it to be the height of enjoy- ment. But this especial road up to the Puig Major must be the very worst in the world. It cannot have a rival. Loose stones frequently brought some of us down upon our knees. The very mule occasionally staggered and stumbled. Sometimes it would become SL fr A s "4%, eal poe TAH Nn aM { 2 Dy cok Pee AYA Sy a & ALR ral - = NS y eS ee a= A th P Sm om ~ Svat 5 . \\ ANY My st at '* f Ton Vo, ; a yey A\\ Y Ps S ~ CPL \ a \ v, is re. “hin Xe N y. tw, ng a(n | a 1a) | A \ 1 IN Ei a pe a ~~ alto (= au Ye id 1s by N YY 3 = A . a ik Wes h JES NE SD es Ne in VN ny in ! ae tt li_( B/S Fer “ Ne ¥ Dn wk GAB fi ’ ee, oN =i! \ at ey /) mh SH “” ie it e Y } an Sy, Ne 1G 0 wt 4 AEC NN ’ ; ae — 7) aeade ——}- \ i MARIQUITA AND ROSITA. almost perpendicular in the steeper places, and how the paniers kept on remains a miracle to this day. Our party became detached and straggling, and I was soon far behind the others. A. and B. were ahead. H.C. went in for what he called his regulation step of twenty-seven inches, a sort of seven- leagued stride without the seven-leagued boots. I came last of all, in company with the mule, and once (I tell you this in confidence), I gave in and mounted it for half an hour. VOL. XLIV, COMNMIC SS (C (0)