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100 pleasure by sitting all day in the cool gallery which enclosed the patio—so suggestive of southern Spain—watching the clouds chase one another across the blue sky, and listening to the breeze gently swaying the branches of a fine Norfolk Island pine. The air was perfumed with the scent of violets and roses, and the silence only broken by the voices of workers on the far side of the court where the business of the house was carried on, and where the native women, seated before little tables, sorted the coffee-berries for market, and chatted loudly in their harsh-sounding language.

THE CALVARIO.