CHAPTER VII 



CAMACHA AND THE MOUNT 



THE road past Palheiro leads, through pine woods 

 and long stretches of yellow broom and golden 

 gorse, to the little mountain village of Camacha. 

 Probably the village has become noted for its 

 flowers from the fact that many English people, 

 in the days when travelling was not so easy, used 

 to make this place their summer-quarters, instead of 

 returning to England, as they mostly do in these 

 days of quick travelling. 



One garden I can recall which, though now 

 neglected, still shows how it was once well cared 

 for. Though the turf is no longer mown, and the 

 box hedges have lost some of their trimness, the 

 beds are still full of what were once treasured plants. 

 The rose-garden no longer sees the knife of the 

 pruner, but the trees grow and flower at their own 

 sweet will, in careless disorder. It is a very lovely 

 disorder, but it is always sad to see a garden once 

 tended with the greatest care fall into other hands, 



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