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Pulp Fiction, 1865 · page 72 of 400

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The Argosy — page 72: Pulp Fiction, 1865

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Letters from Majorca. 57 fell upon the houses and flashed on the windows. Flaming branches of yew marked the road they had taken. It was almost dangerous to follow in their steps. It might have been an incantation scene. There was something barbarous in it; wildand savage. It was pagan rather than Christian. The flames distorted the faces of the torch-bearers, danced and played about them, until you might have thought them beings of a fallen world. ‘Their countenances were not marked by grief, though the slow march with which they kept time to the music threw over it all a certain sad and solemn aspect. I have never seen so strange, so melancholy a procession. I would iy if ', re]! Wh, x Re i Hi aa itl ‘: —— Ry. - =. i Pa th nina Ny No | wit | " bods 4 a a rk We at ks, \ ~ = = = -= Pl LE ‘ = : ie i Ye ir, iN f°) My ai H » ae . f ie ae ts . _=—s aie "h | Tn SH oy WF 4 . f | HY te, iff Si a % ON ‘ a a ii pee ' f (4 ’ PRAY Why } 4, ol i ae iv hy de ae / ' Uy kN : 7 r j 4 f Sah 4 VY, * 1B // Ht | J f ? ‘ ) ’ Avid oi y Ye ‘ Van ih 7 f A \ 4 ( i ‘att / 4): iain J f5 ‘i v4 Wns if yy Vi [DN I WY i, 1) hi UW yh agi} fr fT f. , Fie ta Ms: ff N y /4 At ne Zs y . ui | ae 4; ¥e. Wy We ee W, f ee ih an HATTA Gh if ide” ZZ 7 Nal Th amie ch vy hel I, Ks pes it - vf \ , Uy eb hi ‘ iy Ay .)) Sr,“ Ant trans (Vp f 4 jive f 4 e tht vite a Hib ai ee \e th B15) 4 , #1 yale “uy } qi tt +. ay y aii) ‘ eh TH ‘olf 2 AN ‘ A / Zz Tse) ey AHI \ ALi MEAN. | x = Ad ho We “if Ba e ha Bone Nee ee Ce a i! r ip %, “sf Aaest wai a el ’ ‘e \ NA CELA ts bs! OY Nh yea ier i weet Ng URSA) B , The ic = s/s py, A . ir carta! #1 - ' h f) can V4 {| (\'~2 i ral yi , re Uy} Dy She Gita esis Ths Ke . y Wy og Mae =.= Bs MG hi "sili Va ‘ai ; y AME Se 4 iy YY Vesna AQ” 7 oe wy “jw OLD MOORISH OLIVES. not follow them to the cemetery, but went back to my quiet work in the office, just in time to see the last of the men paying his irrigation money. So is life. For one man it is over and done with, whilst his neighbour is still occupied with the cares of the world, the struggle for existence. And no matter how hard the struggle, he is not at all willing that it should come to an end. The next morning (this morning) I went alone to make acquaint- ance with Pollensa, one of the small towns of Mallorca, one of the most picturesque. Mr. Bateman was unable to accompany me, having an important engagement at the Albufera, which could not be delayed. It was our last day here, Wednesday, and each of us went his separate way. Pollensa is about an hour’s drive from La Puebla. The road on COMICOOOKS.c© nn