VlLr.A PIUMA. 36':» 



I spend the morning regularh' in the park of the 

 X'iUa Piuma, Herr Jenscli liaving lent me the ^;e^- of the 

 upper entrance. In tlie earh' morning I walk up through 

 the old town and open the small gate in the old wall 

 in a sequestered spot Ijelow the cemeter\ . And each 

 time I enter the park hv this little gate I am enchanted 

 with the view. The splendid scene is disclosed as if b\' 

 magic. In front of me steep precipices fall sheer down 

 to the sea and dip into the crested waves. The edge 

 of the promontory is shaded hv a broad belt of Pine trees, 

 which seem as though arranged b"\' a master hantl, so 

 effccti^•ely do the\' adorn it. Agaves of a vi\'id green 

 cling fast to the neighboiu'ing slope. The wall close to 

 the entrance is L|uite hidden under the ricli growth of 

 large-leaved Ivy and Smilax. It rises up to an old ruined 

 castle near ^^-hich the burial place lies. Out of the dark 

 green foliage, dazzling ^\■hite statues and crosses peep 

 forth. In the foreground Arbutus (Fig. p. .y) Oleasters, 

 Pines and JtCvergreen Oaks cro'wd upon each otlier, and 

 steeped in light the trackless sea sparkles and shines in 

 the background. In order to paint this picture the artist 

 would have to clip his brush alternateh' in the light ot 

 the sun and the blue of the sea. 



From the entrance broad steps lead do^^"n first through 

 Erica bushes : then the vie^\■ opens out o\'er the eastern 

 bay and the Monte Castello, \\-hcre wooded lieights end 

 in the steep Cap on which stands the "Telegrapho". 

 In the north-\^'est tlie blue Apennines rise range be\ond 

 range. A light breeze blo\\'s from the open sea, steahng 

 the perfume of the Erica on its wa}'. We rest here a 



