Another View, From Sala.

The Approaching Boats.

Musicians At The Festa.

Nearing The Land.

Disembarking The Women.

The Ecclesiastics.

The Pilgrims' Tower.

Hence, in the West the influence of the returning pilgrims and crusaders was profound. Their aims and exploits, though barren in the Holy Land, inspired the European world with ideals vastly higher than mere lust for food and sensuous pleasures. The way to Syria, also, lay through noble cities and old seats of culture. To thousands, therefore, their long journey thither was both an inspiration and an education. Thus, little by little, East and West came into close relations; and gradually from the Orient - quenchless source of light - innumerable paladins and palmers brought back to the Occident extended knowledge, new ideas, old Greek and Latin manuscripts, and specimens of Saracenic skill, destined to be the seeds of many a transplanted art and new-born industry, and to become the germinal power of the Renaissance.

Old Church Of San Martino.

Half a mile distant from the Isola Comacina, a most enchanting site reveals itself in the Punta Balbianello. Advancing for a considerable distance into the water, which closes round it like a luminous pavement, - now of malachite, now of lapis-lazuli, - this wooded headland seems to have been specially designed to offer perfect views of Nature's masterpiece. Most of the bluff has been left undisturbed, - a forest temple tenanted by birds; but on the point itself, about one hundred feet above the lake, stands the old Villa Arconati, as charming in its architectural beauty as it is pathetic in its loneliness.

Santa Maria In Loppia.

It would be difficult to imagine a more ideal residential site than this; and many efforts have been made by financiers, whose names are known throughout the world, to gain possession of it, and redeem it from its present state of semi-desolation. But all in vain. Mysterious hints of family skeletons and feuds are given as reasons for the unwillingness of its owner to dispose of it, but these in time will necessarily pass away. Hence I look forward to the day, when, in the hands of some appreciative, tasteful purchaser, with means to use his privilege to full advantage, this peerless site will blossom like a rose, and rival in its beauty, if not in its historic memories, "Sunium's marble steep," immortalized in Byron's thrilling verse. The origin of the villa here is worth relating. A mile away, upon the western shore, lies the small town of Campo, whose principal building is the former residence of Cardinal Durini. This worthy prelate,-a stately figure of the eighteenth century, - wishing to found a hospital and home for sick and convalescent brothers of the Franciscan order, wisely selected this salubrious promontory, and built, in 1785, a church and convent here. The title of his own house being "Villa Balbiano," he gave to this Franciscan home the fond diminutive, "Villa Balbianello." Corroding time, however, has brought sad changes to the cardinal's possessions. Attached to his once handsome residence at Campo is an ugly factory, and even the Punta Balbianello has not fared much better. One sees, indeed, as one approaches it, some evidences of its former character; for on the garden's balustrade, the parapet of the boat-landing, and even on the cliff itself, are sculptured forms of saints and bishops, whose hands, once raised in benediction on the passers-by, now seem to be extended in mute protest at this long neglect, or else in silent prayer that it may not continue long. Poor, mutilated relics of a vanished past! Their faces are well-nigh expressionless, and many an uplifted hand lacks one or more fingers in what seems to be a gesture of despair. Passing beneath their outstretched arms, we step out from our little boat on to a broad stone platform, within whose pavement we discern the quaint old motto: "Fais ce que voudras." From this expression of unstinted hospitality a flight of steps leads upward to the terraces, flanked on the left by pretty balustrades designed in open work, and on the right by the high walls, within which, like a statue in a niche, stands many a sword-like aloe, or a slender palm. Meanwhile, above us and around us, bloom wistaria, roses, fleurs-de-lis, and laurel, filling the air with fragrance, and framing lovely pictures of the lake below. This was, however, merely the ordinary entrance to the villa. Upon the southern side is a much finer portal, the steps of which in May and June are glorious with roses, and lead to spacious avenues of shade. One feels that only gentlemen in court attire, and ladies with long velvet trains and satin slippers, ever should have ascended here, and then from nothing less imposing than a richly decorated barge and cloth of gold. The old Italian gardener of the place is the most interesting character. Enthusiastic over the wonderful beauty of a site which he has cared for six and twenty years, he is at the same time saddened and discouraged by the indifference shown by its present owner to this priceless gift of nature. "She never comes," he said pathetically, "and never writes, and never sends her friends here! It is disheartening; for no one tells me what to do, and only strangers come to praise what I have done. Among them some, who understand a little what this means, say I accomplish miracles, since there are only two of us - myself and a boy - to keep all this in order. Once in a while, on certain specified dates, I write to some one I have never seen, give him a list of my expenses, and tell him what repairs are necessary. In his reply I always find the same instructions, - to do as little as possible, and to maintain strict economy. So, after all, my heart is often heavy in the midst of all this loveliness, for 'non si vive di pane solo!'" Slowly we made our way by the old chapel - now a kitchen! - and reached at length the crowning glory of the place, a noble portico, open to north and south, and thus commanding views, sweeping in one direction many miles toward Como, and in the other far beyond the Tremezzina bay, Bellaggio, and Varenna, to the ice-clad Alps, - a sparkling wall of splendor on the northern sky. When, in the winter, and even as late as early May, not only Switzerland's huge peaks, but also many nearer snow-crowned giants, turn to crimson in the sunset glow, and waves of varied color follow one another endlessly over the mountain ranges, rising fold on fold, - themselves vast billows of our planet, petrified, -the loveliness and grandeur of the scene defy description. I can, however, truly say, after a lifetime largely spent in travel over the fairest portions of our globe, that, under favorable conditions, this magnificent vista is the most perfect combination of sublimity and tender beauty I have ever seen.