proportion of trees and on the other is a narrow terrace hundreds 
of feet and a sheer drop above the valley below. Concentrated 
essence of Lavender seems to be the sole product of the town, but 
where the plant from which the essence is produced grows is 
mysterious, since the town is on a pinnacle of rock pinned thereto 
by the very sharpness of the rocky points. This is another 
garden into which you peer through walls and leafage and from 
above, but perhaps when the restoration is complete, visitors 
will be admitted. See it on your way to or from Grasse, or on 
the same day that you visit the Gorges du Loup. 
The most famous Riviera garden of all and that best worth 
seeing is just across the border in Italy at La Mortola, the cele- 
brated Giardino Hanbury. If you are staying in France you will 
need your passport and probably you will have to leave your 
motor or carriage at the frontier unless you are willing to sub- 
mit to many formalities and make a large deposit. The garden 
is about three kilometers into Italy and it is possible you will 
find a cab at the Italian frontier. In any event the walk is not 
a long one and the garden easily found on the sea side of the 
Corniche road. The garden is open to the public only on Fridays 
but no matter how inconvenient the day, do not fail to visit it. 
Botanically, horticulturally and artistically it is the best in the 
region. 
The garden lies on a steep bank between the road and the 
sea. You enter at the top-most point and by paths and steps and 
terraces make your slow way to the sea — slow because it is all 
so beautiful and interesting. The eccentric Englishman who 
made it chose the spot because it offered every advantage to 
growing things, native, tropical, sub-tropical. Everything is 
well cared for, everything is well placed, above all everything 
is labeled. There is a pleasant French-Italian gardener who will 
supply additional information, but the garden defies description 
and some one Friday afternoon of your life must be devoted 
to seeing it. 
The public gardens at Monte Carlo are like an immense park 
greenhouse, from which the glass has been removed, but the 
rocky and precipitous gardens beyond the palace square at 
Monaco are quite another matter. They are a little like the 
falaises at Eilenroc, but geologically more natural and horticul- 
turally more artificial. They are lovely and gay and romantic 
to the last degree. 
Legend tells of beautiful gardens at Beaulieu and at Mentone, 
but to these I have not managed to penetrate. A little cloister 
garden by the church at Roquebrune on the Upper Corniche is 
said to be delightful. 
There is a belief that the Riviera is a small, warm place on 
the Mediterrean coast of France, that one may breakfast at 
Mentone, lunch at Nice, dine at St. Raphael and get back to play 
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