The Punta Balbianello.

Former Palace Of Cardinal Durini, Campo.

Entrance To The Boat Landing.

An Adjacent View.

The Terrace.

The Principal Portal.

An Earthly Paradise.

Looking Toward The Punta Balbianello.

I have just risen from my writing, and from my window look across the Tremezzina toward the Punta Balbianello. The moon is at its full, and on the cliff the lofty portico is plainly visible, its creamy columns glittering in the moonlight like an arch of gold. Incredible as it may seem, the beautiful estate is left at night unguarded and deserted. Only the mutilated statues of the saints are, therefore, keeping watch and ward to-night upon its parapets; the only voices in its groves are those of nightingales, their liquid notes suggesting jewels of the air; and nothing breaks the silence of its gardens save the lapping of the water on their flower-wreathed walls.

The Lofty Portico.

One of the fairest sites on earth is lying there abandoned and neglected, without an eye to note its beauty, or hand to pluck its dewy roses, or foot to tread its stately loggia, gilded by the moon. So silent, white, and motionless does it appear, that I might easily believe its Genius Loci to be dead and lying in its shroud. But, such is my conviction of its ultimately brilliant future, that to me the spirit of the place seems merely sleeping in the moonlight, like Endymion, awaiting the divine caress which shall awaken it to life and love. Beyond the Punta Balbianello the scenery becomes enchanting. Not only is Bellaggio visible on the opposite bank, surmounted by majestic heights, but at the left, as one advances from the south, there now displays itself a miniature Bay of Naples, called the Tremezzina. This sheltered basin is the warmest, sunniest, and most healthful portion of the lake, the climate here in winter being distinctly milder than at points which lie exposed to alpine winds, or at an early hour are darkened by the shadows of protruding mountains. For it must not be overlooked by invalids that on the Larian lake, as on the Riviera, there are several kinds of climate, each more or less windy, sunny, or salubrious, according to position.

Awaiting The Divine Caress.

The Old Gardener.

In Tremezzina's sheltered bay The wintry storms forget to rave; Without, - the white caps and the spray; Within. - a shore with scarce a wave, A favored spot where tempests cease. And Heaven whispers, "Here is Peace".

Nestled within its curving arm are three small towns, -Tremezzo at its northern point, and Lenno at its southern, while just midway between them lies the village of Azzano. In other words, if one compared its shore-line to a well-drawn bow, the tips of the arc would be at Lenno and Tremezzo, while in the centre, where the arrow meets the bowstring, lies Azzano. At the author's home in the last-named place, during the winter of 1907-8, the lowest temperature at any time - and that a rare occurrence - was three degrees below the freezing point; and though it was necessary to give to orange and lemon trees the shelter of the greenhouse, palms were left unprotected in the open air with no disastrous results, and roses, calycanthus, and camellias bloomed in the garden daily during the winter months. What wonder, therefore, that this sunny shore of rich fertility has been for centuries called "The Garden of Lombardy"?

The Tremezz1na Bay, Looking North.