. . .ng flights of steps lead to the higher part of the town—some broad and shallow, the playground of innumerable boys; others steep and so narrow that the tall houses almost meet overhead.

The cobbled streets of the oldest and most aristocratic quarters of Palma resemble ravines, and are barely wide enough to admit of the passage of the heavy two-wheeled carts that come lumbering through, scraping either wall with their axles and compelling foot passengers to seek the shelter of the nearest archway. An oriental atmosphere of mystery hangs about the massive, fortress-like walls of the great houses that tower on either side, turning to the outer world a blank and inscrutable face of reserve that offers not the faintest indication of the life existing within. External windows are represented by a few heavily-barred apertures high overhead, but if you chance to find the great nail-studded porte-cochère standing open you are at perfect libert. . . Read More