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Updated: June 29, 2025
John's Eve was celebrated here in Ripoll on the correct, or, as the Catalans call it, the classical, date last night. The little market-place was full of animation. The Catalan girls, up in these Pyrenean heights, are perhaps more often seriously beautiful than in Barcelona, though here, too, they are well endowed with the substantial, homely, good-humoured Catalan graces.
Cadiz The Fortifications The Consul-General Characteristic Anecdote Catalan Steamer Trafalgar Alonzo Guzman Gibil Muza Orestes Frigate The Hostile Lion Works of the Creator Lizard of the Rock The Concourse Queen of the Waters Broken Prayer.
Weems being the only foreigner on board, and having the looks of a man who would not steal a potato, was naturally spotted at once, and a sub-officer of Carabineros demanded his passport. Weems, not knowing a word of Catalan, looked helpless. An interested mob collected, and stared and made suggestions. None of them could speak a word of English.
Some of them appeared to be people of the worst description: there was one in particular, a burly savage-looking fellow, of about forty, whose conduct was atrocious; he sat with his wife, or perhaps concubine, at the door of a room which opened upon the court: he was continually venting horrible and obscene oaths, both in Spanish and Catalan.
Both these factors may work in the same direction in the Parisian love of artificial flowers and the Catalan love of natural flowers, while in the parched land of Andalusia one factor alone seems to keep alive the adoration of flowers.
"The men must not take as much as they like, but the ammunition must be served out regularly, for a Catalan will never believe that he has too much powder, and if left alone the first comers would load themselves with it, and the supply would run short before all are provided." The count then entered the church, where a party of men were occupied in putting down a thick layer of straw.
Finding that the sailor was not moved by her smiles nor the glances from her sharp eyes, she planted herself before him, speaking to him in Catalan. "Excuse me, sir, but are you not a ship captain named Don Ulysses?..." This started the conversation. The cook, convinced that it was he, continued talking with a mysterious smile.
I had heard this sort of Latin in many places, some lonely and some populous. I had heard it once from a chemist at Perpignan who dressed a wound of mine, and this was the first time I heard it. Very often after in the valleys of the Pyrenees, in the Cerdagne, and especially in Andorra, hundreds of men had spoken to me in Catalan.
Another password was exchanged, and then a step was audible in the passage, and the bandaged head and pale face of Paco appeared at the door of the guard-room. The muleteer was received with a cry of welcome from the soldiers. "Hurra!" cried the sergeant, "here is your match, Perrico. No Catalan or Arragonese, but jolly Navarro.
A burly merchant, however, with a red face, peaked chin, sharp eyes, and hooked nose, clearly bore off the palm; he conversed with astonishing eagerness on seemingly the most indifferent subjects, or rather on no subject at all; his voice would have sounded exactly like a coffee-mill but for a vile nasal twang: he poured forth his Catalan incessantly till we arrived at Gibraltar.
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