Pulp Fiction, 1865 · page 75 of 400
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60 Letters from Majorca. But all this time we are leaving the lady screaming and howling: for the sounds proceeded from a young woman of some twenty summers—or winters, according to her date of birth. The cause, we found, was indeed a sad one. ‘The father had gone out that morning in his usual health, and had been brought home dead. He had a son who was a priest in the town, and we saw him at this moment hastening up as fast as his robes would allow him to do so. These shrieks, horrible and heartrending, are the mode in which the people of Pollensa give expression to their feelings and declare their griefs. It is distressing beyond imagination, and, of course, answers no good purpose. In this instance they never ceased, and we were glad to leave them behind us. x s li) Pn f ~ wf am stay. { (oes Kev ai me ” a i ca = Ras a ty Na hale Hen at “hs - ‘ of { Lani et Neat ta VW, thos ‘ ‘ea 9 iy Mem mit i} aL Sein ' "1 VY in ‘ wa | i >! < i) } ry Jat 5 Wo Pd | fy Ue FRY Vy 7 j . ah a Data’ 4 iC \ r : Le PAE po) ) Vii Hels ~ ) ; F . they, \ ' > | a ? ore, | \ ( - ‘e ‘ H ' ‘ ar gh mat Vf a) - _ i : ») lh <i s - Hei i} “ia Ao" thee ‘ aE wes by pa. "y - areiig y Ny] " | } si Life Mai ! 3 ee iy lath es i eee alah 7 at a hy MAR we Te ey 4) ; ih Sy ink ip Ms As ef ae an ere ie His J Sih a - } 15 “i a “We Ny, Mi ile ee fas sl “Sa il é : ow i i) 5/4) l AM i ie iat i mae Hi eat is | So 2 WY ifs ally ‘al iit ny lr’ Si Hie see 7 em N a ay Da RRA ‘7 as Hie { i . i an o. omg au 1 ‘ 3) \Wui a bY Og st) iN iis H| MW if si 1 “i te Ne (Hy ij oh mu et ON THE CALVAIRE, The landlady had prepared a repast, and it was served in a room about four feet square. I cannot conscientiously say that I took it alone, for all the cocks and the hens in the yard joined me, and half-a-dozen cats and dogs ; all with such evident intentions and such appealing looks, that food that was meant for me was fain to find its way to the birds and animals. ‘There was a perfect understanding between us, and they were all on excellent terms with each other. I had never lunched with so mixed (or unmixed) an assembly, and felt very much as if the primeval days had returned. Fortunately the good woman had provided not only a superabundance of food, but some of it of so mysterious a kind and flavour, that even Oliver himself would never have asked for more. Apparently, however, there are no mysteries in the fowl world, the cat and dog creation, for these very mysteries they most appreciated. Gomichbooksrcom