File:The Argosy (1865) (14779455482).jpg

Identifier: argosythe45wood (find matches)
Title: The Argosy
Year: 1865 (1860s)
Authors: Wood, Henry, Mrs., 1814-1887 Wood, Charles W. (Charles William), b. 1850?
Subjects:
Publisher: London (etc.) R. Bentley (etc.)
Contributing Library: Robarts - University of Toronto
Digitizing Sponsor: University of Toronto

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Walls of Alcudia. Here, too, we have a double set ot walls: Roman and mediaeval. The moat between them is dried up and withered. Its uses have passed away as completely as the busy hands and brains that centuries ago planned them out and brought them to perfection. There were giants in the land in those days, even as in days before them: the days of the Pyramids, of the Walls of Babylon, the Tomb of Mausoleus, and all the wonders of the world. There always have been giants, it seems to me, on the earth. In our own day I suppose their strength lies in the wonders of science and invention. Wisbys walls—to conclude the comparison—look out upon a cold and barren land, upon the pale waters of the Baltic. These of Alcudia look forth upon fertile plains; upon distant waters running calmly up into the land in creeks and harbours; upon chains of hills undulating and tower-crowned; upon the broad Bay, the fair and flashing waters of the Mediterranean. For these are Southern skies,
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Letters from Majorca, 49 where balmy zephyrs blow, and spiced gales and fruit-scented winds are prevalent. We cannot escape here the dream of the lotus-eater, even if we would. If its people are voluptuous, living the life of the senses, we must pause before we judge them, and hesitate long before we condemn. A sojourn in these soft and subtle climes, this rainbow atmosphere, these gorgeous scenes, is inexpressibly delicious. We live in dreams beyond those of our sleep. All we possess of youth and freshness is kindled and aroused and quickened into life by its influence. Our very being and nerves are thrilled, as a harp would vibrate at the touch of a Saint Cecilia. Nevertheless, I would not live here always. A glamour is thrown over the imagination. The net of soft and sweet, but dangerous emotions holds captive ones reason. The doom of the epicurean would become ours. Give me the colder, healthier influences of the North, companionship with a race that resolutely fights the battle of life, pressin

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