he office
fronts the main street, and is fitted with a plain counter facing the
door, at one end of which are the gold-weighing scales, and at the
other the ledger-desk. Two rooms are attached to the office, in which
we sleep,--one behind, the other at the side. There is a pretty
little garden in the rear, a verandah covered with a thickly growing
Australian creeper (the Dolichos), sheltering us as we sit out there
occasionally, enjoying the quiet cool of the evenings, reading or
talking.

You will thus observe that our establishment is by no means of a
stately order.[8] Indeed the place is not weather-proof. When the wind
blows, the canvas inside the boards flaps about, and, in my queer
little sleeping-room, when the rain falls it runs down the sides of
the canvas walls, and leaves large stains upon the gay paper. But I
contrived to make the little place look tolerably comfortable; hung it
round with photographs reminding me of relations and friends at home,
and at length I came quite to enjoy my little retreat.

A look up and down the main street of Majorca is not particularly
lively at any time. Some of the shop-keepers are in front of their
stores, standing about under the verandahs which cover the pathway,
and lazily enjoying a pipe. At the upper end of the town the
blacksmith is busily at work shoeing some farmer's horses, in front of
the blazing smithy fire. Five or six diggers come slouching along,
just from their work, in their mud-bespattered trowsers and their
shirt sleeves, a pick or spade over their shoulders, and a tin "billy"
in their hands. But for the occasional rattle of a cart or buggy down
the street, the town would be lapped in quiet.

Here comes a John Chinaman with his big basket of vegetables. And let
me tell you that the Chinamen, who live in the neighbourhood of the
town, form no unimportant part of our community. But for them where
should we be for our cabbages, cauliflowers, and early potatoes? They
are the most indefatigable and successful of gardeners. Every morning
three or four of them are seen coming into the town from their large
gardens near the creek, each with a pole across his shoulders, and a
heavily laden basket hanging from each end. What tremendous loads they
contrive to carry in this way! Try to lift one of their baskets, and
you will find you can hardly raise it from the ground. Then you see
the "Johns" moving along from house to house, selling their stuffs. It
takes a ver