The Argosy — page 325: what you’re looking at

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

302 Letters from Majorca. health. You would think he was relating some beautiful love story, or touching romance. His tones linger lovingly over details that set me creeping and quivering from head to foot. He has no idea of this ; and when he suddenly turns and sees a white face and horror- stricken eyes, he merely says: ‘‘I think the heat is beginning to be too much for you.” But of such stuff as this are doctors made: men, I mean, born to their work ; who rise eventually to the height of their ambition—as Dr. Fitzgilbert will rise some day, if he only possesses ambition, and time should be given to him. But for this very reason he has small sympathy with my very opposite temperament. Dreams and visions, moods and variations, heights of ecstasy or depths of melancholy: these, he considers, shadow forth a mind diseased, and must be treated with strong herbs. Yet it is said, my dear doctor, that you cannot minister to a mind diseased: and as I have already remarked, to one is given the gift of healing, to another the interpretation of tongues: such as translating verses from the Hebrew. Let each follow his bent, and be therewith content. In spite of dreams and influences, I had no wish to be left to solitude, even in the cloisters haunted by George Sand and Chopin. So when the doctor gave out his awful threat, I came back to earth, said a hasty farewell to the monastery, and followed my arbitrary companion. We were soon winding round the heights of Valdemosa ; passed the old cross and the fountain where the women had danced round H. C., and released him only after chaste salutations. Alas, to-day they were not washing, so that I had not the pleasure of seeing the doctor treated in the same way. He looked disappointed. ‘The fountain was deserted. ‘Then we began to descend towards Miramar. In due time came the Hospiteria, and all the old familiar scenes. This was not my first summer visit to Miramar. Only a few days before, I had gone over to call upon the Archduke, and to spend the afternoon with him. On that occasion he told -me a singular and very romantic anecdote. Within the week, one morning, he had chanced to come upon a stranger in his grounds. He was a man no longer very young. ‘The Archduke entered into conversation with him: found that he was a great traveller, spoke many languages. In short, he was a man of the world. ‘Then he explained his object in coming to Mallorca. ‘T had once a dear friend who belonged to the island. He died lately, and in losing him I lost all I cared for on earth. I wished to do something to perpetuate his memory: not by means of a cold stone monument or a gift to an institution. These ordinary memorials would not satisfyme. ‘They mean nothing; they are cold and empty. I thought I would try and raise a less silent memorial to my friend. I have come all the way from the Canary Islands for this purpose. I have brought with me a number of canaries, and have set them at CORMICLIOOKS. ©)