Pollensa is essentially a town of hills. Mountains closely girdle it round. To the Calvario, which is perched on a height in the midst of the town, one ascends by countless wide, low steps, the town ascending also. For on one side houses struggle half-way up the steep incline, while cactus plants, the edges of their thick, fleshy leaves heavily ruched by blood-red fruit, hedge the other. On the rocky slope beyond is a thick growth of palmettos, the dwarf palms whose inner stems the natives eat and from whose dried fronds baskets are made.
To the dwellers in these sky-parlours the broad steps play the part of an extra sitting-room. As we climbed slowly up that hot morning, we trod closely upon many domestic scenes, but none of the actors therein objected to the intrusion. Fathers were happily employing their Sunday leisure in nursing their babies; and mothers, with the requisites placed for all the world to see, were washing their children's faces, tying up their locks with ribbon, and performing other niceties of the toilet that usually take place in the sanctity of the home. One old woman, sitting full in the sun, was reciting her prayers in a loud voice. Her occupation, however, did not appear in the slightest to detract from her interest in the passing of us forasteros.
The open doors of the little chapel that perched amidst its guardian cypresses on the summit spoke a wordless welcome; and we entered, to find ourselves in a beautiful sanctuary.
Above the altar was a very old carved tableau which represented Christ suspended on a heavy wooden cross, with Mary, kneeling, caressing His wounded feet. On the ceiling were various curious and evidently antique emblems of the Redemption.
On either side of the altar was a recess devoted to the display of votive offerings. Many of them were akin to those exhibited in other churches, though one case was filled with tiny flat silver figures—miniature men in trousers and tiny women in petticoats. But on the wall of the chamber to the right was an offering that aroused both our interest and our curiosity.
Suspended in a tall, narrow glass case, hung a pleat of dark brown hair, tied simply after the local fashion with a knot and ends of black ribbon. It was a pigtail such as was worn by most of the women in the town; but a pigtail of such unusual length and thickness that it might quite laudably have been the pride of its owner's heart.
Beneath was a card bearing the following inscription, written large in a fair, round hand:—