The Majorcan peasants, however, are superstitious to a degree, and densely ignorant. This may be accounted for by the fact that the mass of the population consists of the labouring classes, and that they are so completely isolated from the rest of mankind. To attempt, therefore, to engraft upon their primitive minds any scientific or artistic improvement is an unfruitful task. A few years ago a line of telegraphic communication was attempted between Soller and Palma; but as soon as the poles and wires were erected, they were in many places destroyed, not from wilful malice, but from a fixed notion that the telegraph was some diabolical invention of the Evil One, destined to bring them to any amount of grief. It was in vain to expostulate or explain. The wires were cut and cut again. However, upon the magnetic principle being made known to the peasantry of the district, some more enlightened than the rest wished to test its efficacy by positive proof; and when they heard that messages might be sent along the wires, they concluded that goods and chattels might be transported in the same manner from place to place. Consequently, during the first week after the telegraph had commenced operations, all sorts of things were found hanging on the wires for a distance of nearly five miles—bundles of clothes, pairs of knickerbockers, petticoats, baskets of edibles, and even wigs. In fact, an olla podrida of domestic articles, all neatly ticketed and addressed, was found waving in the breeze. The good peasantry, however, finding that the telegraph was longer in its transmission of these articles to their destination than they had anticipated, naturally concluded that the whole thing was a hoax and a swindle on the part of the Government and Satan, and wreaked their vengeance upon the unfortunate poles and wires by knocking them down.
We had approached to the foot of the mountain range we had hitherto seen from afar, to which the road ascended by gradual inclines. The higher we wound from the heat below, the sharper became the breeze. On all sides Alpine vegetation spread around, perfuming the air with a hundred odours. We pursued the zig-zags until we were enclosed by a semicircle of enormous precipices and stupendous rocks, on whose beetling brows the toppling fir-trees clung. We felt overwhelmed by the sight of these stupendous masses, for it seemed as if a breath would dislodge them, and hurl them down upon us. The road, escaping for a time from the deep recesses of these adamantine walls, skirted the level edge of a lofty precipice; and, on one occasion, we splashed through a torrent which, a few feet on our left, fell in a wide arch over the rocky margin, and rushed, silvering in the sunny air, far down into the dark gulf beneath, while the roar of its waters echoed like distant thunder amongst the hollows of the desolate mountains. Again we ascended, and in proportion as we rose, the peaks seemed to rear themselves above us. Then we dived into a vast enclosure of vertical walls, in which we felt as if in a prison, deep and gloomy itself, but from which we could see the bright vault of heaven above.
After an hour's climb in this sombre valley, we sat down for rest and a cigarillo on a way-side stone to await the coming of the mules and carriage. As we looked back through the rocky pass by which we had entered the gorge, we had a pleasant, though far distant, view of light green slopes and wide spreading plains, shining brightly in the yellow glow of day, and occasionally tinted with the grey hues of the olive. Bounding these plains, in a long narrow line of dazzling light, were the white walls of Palma; while beyond, its hue contrasting with the transparent blue of the spotless sky, and flecked here and there by the white sail of the feluccas, quivered the long high line of the purple sea. Higher yet we ascend, over roads paved by the Moors six hundred years ago. Leaving the carriage on the path below, we scramble up through tangled shrubberies, through cactus, aloes, carob, evergreen oak, and ancient olive. All around and over us are piled the wild mountains, with forests of pine scaling to their very peaks, and standing out like funeral plumes in dark, black fringes against the radiant sky. We pass groups of strong sunburnt peasants, with a simple goat-skin tied upon their backs for a garment. We perceive among them timid girls, large-eyed and hooded, with streaming plaits of blue-black or golden auburn hair, and old women, squatting on mules, with their heads covered by the hat, or masculine head-gear, like that worn by the women of Wales. Wider and wider, as we rise above the lower landscape, spreads the glorious prospect behind us—wild rock, verdant slope, sunny plains, streaked with the dusky olive, the long, white line of the distant city, and the dark blue breast of the dreaming sea; until, of a sudden, we pass over a dark rocky plateau, and the scene drops quickly from view, like the dreams of boyhood, the bright yearnings of youth, and all things of beauty which are born to fade,—
"Youth's fond dreams, like evening skies,
Are tinged with colours bright;
Their cloud-built walls and turrets rise
In lines of dazzling light.
But Time wears on with stealthy pace,
And robes of solemn grey,
And in the shadow of its face,