Blossoming Yuccas.

A Gate Of Glory.

Bellaggio, From The Villa Melzi.

The Promontory Of Bellaggio.

The little village looks, as one approaches it, like an artistically painted drop-curtain. The shore is fringed with pleasure-boats, protected from the sun by colored awnings, and near these stand well-dressed, expectant oarsmen, like Venetian gondoliers. Behind them variously tinted hotels, pensions, and houses climb the hill, divided here and there from one another by steep, narrow alleys, which look as if they followed lines originally traced by mountain streams. The lower stories of the buildings, on a level with the strand, form one unbroken line of tasteful shops, made more attractive still by vaulted roofs extending over the sidewalk, thus giving visitors an opportunity to inspect with comfort, in all kinds of weather, the charming wares so temptingly displayed. Among these may be often seen rare specimens of inlaid furniture, sometimes one or two centuries old, and usually showing exquisite workmanship. These are still found occasionally by experts traveling through the country, who cause them to be carefully repaired and polished, till they appear before the fascinated tourist as veritable objets d'art. It is not in the shops, however, or even on the pretty shore, that one can most enjoy Bellaggio. Above the village, with its hostelries and brilliant booths, towers the wooded bluff which forms the crowning glory of Lake Como; and now that the Villa Serbelloni, near its summit, is no longer a private residence, but has become the annex of the Grand Hotel, many prefer to live there during their entire stay, descending only now and then to make excursions. Even that apparently they do reluctantly, persuaded from the start that nothing they will see can equal what they leave behind. This hill is fortunately not so high as to necessitate that unattractive adjunct of so many Swiss resorts, - a funicular railway. An admirable carriage-road conveys one comfortably to the Villa, and even for pedestrians of small endurance the ascent is not fatiguing. But were it a necessity to make of this another Scala Sancta, and to ascend its slopes upon one's knees, it would repay the effort. The Serbelloni Hill - as, in default of a better name, we may perhaps call the heightabove Bellaggio -presents in a small compass a rare combination of a botanical park and the Black Forest. Thus, on the southern side, adjoining and below the

Bellaggio.

The Arcades Of Bellaggio.

The Villa Serbelloni.

The Serbelloni Terraces.

Villa Serbelloni, is a succession of terraces, each one a tropical garden, basking in the solar heat, and lifting step by step in beautiful crescendo long, crescent-shaped expanses of exotic plants and trees, - palms, aloes, cacti, and mimosas, together with innumerable oranges and lemons, their golden globes resplendent among countless roses in an atmosphere of sweetness, constantly distilled from floral chalices. One feels that there should be erected on these terraces a shrine to Flora, whose white-robed priestesses, advancing down the fragrant avenues, should scatter jasmine blossoms in the pathway of approaching worshipers. How absolute is the contrast between such a height as this and those which man has used for purposes of war! Here is a natural Gibraltar, sacred to the interests of peace and beauty! An Ehrenbreitstein, on whose parapets are ranged no weapons of destruction! The object of all labor here is life, not death. The net result is happiness, not misery. One feels that the presiding deity of the place is Flora, not Bel lona. Approaching ships are welcomed, not repelled. Here gardeners take the place of soldiers. Not tears and blood, but rain and dew refresh the tranquil earth. The sunlight shimmers not on moving squadrons, but on billowy grain. The brilliant hues which charm the eye are those of flowers, not of uniforms; and fluttering flags are here replaced by waving trees.