Morning journal and courier., 1892-02-20

pirate Moors and Balearicans were butch cred, sold as slaves or banished to the A. rican coast. The women became the slaves and wives of the CataluniRn peasant war riors- The islands were psrtitioned of among the followers of Don Jayne l.. founding a titled land-holding aristocraoy, existing to this day, as proud, rich and mo- ble blooded as Europe ever knew. The then independent kingdom of Balearica, under eventual vassallsge to Pedro w, of Aragon, was finally merged with Aragon into the Spanish dominion. With moth CTS of pure Balearic and Moorish blood, and fathers from the sturdy, sluggish and over-contented Catalunian stock, tinged and tempered by a mstchless cline and fruitful soil, the seven hundred interren- ing years have moulded a race fine in phy- sique, supple of limb, cheery of temper and heart, melodic of speech and tongue. fair to look upon and truly good to find and know.
 Having left the beautiful, sleepy, sun lit bay for Palma's streets, you have en- tered city of nearly seventy thousand souls, where Italy, Spain and Algeria seem 10 have formed a charming composite in architecture and people. The hugeness of walls is everywhere remarkable. Every thing is constructed as if for eternal last ing. No street is beautiful, but not one fails of picturesqueness that Is often weird and srotesque. Every structure possesses in some portion, and frequently in the most unexpected position, some wonderful and ornate eornAmentation. Tiny squares with wimpling fountains are set in All sorts of odd corners. A huge church may tower on the one side of each of these. At a corner may stand, or pro- iect from a curious and seemingly unne- cessary wall, a massive carved facade or gargoyle from which the water is endless ly aowingly. At another side a mass of vines and verdure, capped to the sight by far pomes or spires, is only visible. Out jut;ing al another spot, the angle of some huge building seems to have pushed Its way half across the plaza, snd with its galleries, balconies and tremendous over reaching roof, is ready to pitch heAdlong into the open space beneath. While an other sunny side shows only roof of red tiles slOping like a tent cover, uupierced by single aperture, from An inteTminA- ble height wholly to the edge of a stone cloister-like porch beneath.
 In all open spaces are palm trees. And these, rising from conr.s. lifting their spreading frOnds high above roofs from dRrkened thoroughfares, oten leaning. like the tower "f Pisa, out of qlaint old courts, and here and there being preserved by an entire building constructed around them, lend dreamful, mystic, almost Lonesome and pathetic coloring to every nlAssing of structures upon which the eye may rest. To me, the palm, whether l have seen it in southern Spain. in Sicily, in Morocco, in Algeria, in Cuba, or here m Palma, whose name had its origin in the former extraordinary number of palm trees upon the island, has always been an emblem of dolorous isolation and inexpressible lone Illness. It hints of the camel, the Bedou- in, the desert. In art, in story, in fact, it ever suggests the endless hopelessness and impasssbihty of the barriers between the races that subsist up and rest beneath it, and those who know and love the maple, beech and oak.
 It is a city of steep ascents and ill-paved streets, but of witching old bits of curi- ous architecture, and perhaps as lovely and splendid interiors as any Moorish or semi-Moorish city can show. All the houses retain features of Moorish taste and evidences of medieval forms of habi tation and living. They are not higher than three or four stories at best. More have but the ground floor with an upper one, and an attic called porcho. Invari ably the entradas to the interior are stud ies in carved arabesques and fanciful Moorish designs. Balconies are as uniyer- sal and as huge or as lsce-like and fragile
 
 liarity of all structures is their huge pro | jeoting roofs, spread out into pent-hopses and frequently most fascinatingly worked out and decorated. And the lowliest home in all Palma is charming in its patio | or court-thst loveliest of all interior ar rsngement around which Moslem or Chris tian home can be built.
 Every one of these courts is A place of | beauty, sunshine and song. In every one hay ia ha 1ir of | running ietty or fountain. h every une, | whether glittering with slender marble | columns and daintily wrought arches or softened in tones with messy stone and | crumbling tiles, there are waving ferns | and flowers. Vines chamber wantonly l over entablature, arch and balustrsde. The aicobas of all living in these sbodes are within the sound of friendly calling voice. And not one is without birds of gay plumsge and birds with endless songs. | 1 often wonder why the rich of our own land do not build their homes like these. A dome of glass instead of the blue Medi- terranean sky is all the change required. Banish the pall-like hangings and wither- | ing shadowplaces from your stuffy homes, and learn to live in the life giving light like the Latin and the Moor. Put your great New England fireplaces opposite | your srched entrances; and make of these | | someness. melody and homeside joy. Only when the feast and processional days come is Palma a gay and brilliant city. At all other times i; is sunny, rest | ful, slumberous and almost silent. Its | street folk are the same as of any other | southern Spanish city. There is greater | content here. No one is in a hurry Among the lowly folk there is less excita- bility; greater good nature, and the latter is of the gentle, not the uprosrious sort. Here, as in Madrid, is your leohero or milkman, who drives his cows in from the | country and milks for you before your door. The dulcero or seller of sweets, | with his songful call by day and his tink- ling bells by night, is here. The oochero or cabman with comfortable landaulet and pretty diligence will serve you faithfully | without guile. The merchantist or notion | peddlar, the aquador or wster-seller, the regatero or huckster, who has the socisble habit of entering shop or home with his donkeys and paniers, the zapatero or arch way shoemaker, and the latonero or tink- CT, whom I have found 10 be Spanish zip
 sy, are all here in their lazy, pleasant and l picturesque ways.
 By day Palma seems to the stranger 10 be continuously experiencing something like a soft dreamful buzz of activity in all human affairs. Perhaps it is the reaction arter some great business tension. you ru- minate. But no; each day is as the day before il. Everything is gently done. No one is astir before ten in the morning. Then the pretty market attracts bevies of beautiful women and maids. This is fol- lowed by the noontime siesta. The shops are bright and brilliant until evening; but everything is quiet and restful within. In
 the evening the cafes are ablaze with light; | I A