The Argosy — page 327: what you’re looking at

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

308 Letters from Majorca. with a heart of lead, and calmly asks whether we could not pass our lives in roaming the world together. He also this morning indited a very pretty sonnet, of which I am hero and inspirer. He calls it David and Jonathan. has been good enough to despatch me to the land of ghosts and shadows, and illustrated his meaning with a graphic sketch. I am in the far, far distance, partially concealed | behind a thin veil of cloud, chief amidst a company of angels. My wings are outspread. ‘Their shadow falls upon the head of a young monk, kneeling in ecstasy, with cowl thrown back. The young monk is H. C. Hiais eyes are strained upon that far-off vision. Beneath him run the words, which I think are not quite original: “Though lost to sight, to memory dear!” This is flattering. Say what you will, hero worship is a very plea- sant thing and sweetens life. I certainly asked H. C. if he could not as comfortably have despatched himself, and left me toa cloistered grief ; but he mildly replied that he had great faith in his own powers of constancy. But now to return fora moment to Soller, the time and scene of my last letter. After finishing that humorous sketch, of which Rosita is the ministering spirit and I am the ministered, A. is theslain and H. C. is the victor: after consuming those six bottles of soda water: he retired to rest, and no doubt slept the sleep of the just. The next morning, on comparing notes, we found we had both great trouble in rising. For my own part, I felt as though I had no sound spot in my whole body; bruised and wounded from head to foot, black and blue, yea, all the colours of the rainbow. ‘This of course was the effect of the Puig Major, and I wished the Puig Major had been at Jericho before I had attempted the ascent. We came down to breakfast in due time; or rather, for us, who generally rise with the birds of the air, in time that was very much overdue. <A. and B. were still invisible. They appeared upon the scene of our little world about midday, pretending that they were in excellent form for another excursion up the Puig Major. Rosita ministered at our breakfast, daintily prepared us pome- granates, and in spite of H. C.’s furious glances, gave me the largest share, and bestowed most pains upon my Mallorquin pronunciation. _ It certainly was very soft and sweet as it issued from her pretty lips. A. was fortunately still slumbering, or I should probably not be living now to tell the tale. The chocolate mill was grinding away, not dead men’s bones, but sugar and flakes and all the ingredients that make up this delectablecompound. It sent forth a suffocating odour, from which we were glad to escape to the lower regions. How we pitied that poor mule, who thus passes its life, like Sisyphus, in rolling a stone which goes on for ever ! After breakfast—it was a lengthened meal, for Rosita evidently wished that her final lesson in Mallorquin should be a memorable COMIC OOOKS. CO