the dry meadows ; and the green plover <l whistles o’er the lea/’ and the snipes haunt the marshy grounds ; 
and the wagtails twinkle about near the spring heads; and the larks get together in companies, and talk to 
each other, instead of singing to themselves ; and the thrush occasionally puts forth a plaintive note, as if 
half afraid of the sound of its own voice ; and the hedge-sparrow and tit-mouse try to sing ; and the robin 
does sing still, even more delightfully than he has done all the rest of the year, because it now seems as if 
he sang for us rather than for himself. . or rather, to us, for it is still for his supper that he sings, and there- 
fore for himself. 
Not so with the kitchen-garden ; that, if it has been duly attended to, is full of interest this month, 
especially by comparison with the scenes of decay and barrenness by which it is surrounded. The fruit and 
trees on the walls are all nailed out with the most scrupulous regularity ; and by them, as much as by any- 
thing else, you may now judge of the skill and assiduity of your gardener. Indeed, this is the month of all 
others in which his merits are put to the test, and in which they often seem to vie with those of nature 
herself. Anybody may have a handsome garden from May to September ; but only those who deserve one 
can have it from September to May. Now, then, the walls are all covered with their wide-spread fruit-fan; 
the celery beds stretch out their unbroken lines of fresh-looking green : the late planted lettuces look 
trim and erect upon the sheltered borders where they are to stand the winter and be ready, not to open, 
but to shut up their young hearts at the first warm breath of spring ; the green strings of autumn-sown peas 
scarcely lift their tender downward turning stems above the dark soil; the hardy endives spread out their 
now full grown heads of fantastically curled leaves, or stand tied up from the sun and air, doing the penance 
necessary to acquire for them that agreeable state of unhealthiness without which our squeamish appetites 
could not relish them; the cauliflower, brocoli, and kale plants, maintain their unbroken ranks; and, finally 
even the cabbages themselves contrive to look genteel. 
As to the flower-garden this month, it looks a picture either of pleasantness or poverty; according to the 
degree of care and skill which has been bestowed upon it: for though nature wills that we should enjoy her 
beauties during a certain period of the year, whether we use any efforts towards the obtaining of them or not, 
yet she lays it down as a general principle, in regard to her gifts, that to seek them, is at once to deserve, 
to have, and to enjoy them ; and that, without such seeking we shall only have just enough to make us sigh 
after more. 
The Flower Festival at Gengano. 
How shall I describe the first glance into the street — that bright picture as I then saw it? The entire, 
long, gently ascending street was covered over with flowers; the ground colour was blue: it looked as if 
they had robbed all the gardens, all the fields, to collect flowers enough of the same colour to cover the 
streets; over these lay in long stripes, green, composed of leaves, alternately with rose-colour; at some 
distance from this was a similar stripe, and between this was a layer of dark red flowers, so as to form, as 
it were, a broad border to the whole carpet. The middle represented stars and sun, which were formed by 
a close mass of yellow, round, and star-like flowers; more labour still had been spent upon the formation of 
names — here flower was laid upon flower, leaf upon leaf. The whole was a living flower-carpet, a mosaic 
floor, richer in pomp of colouring than any thing which Pompeii can show. Not a breath of air stirred — 
the flowers lay immovable, as if they were heavy, firmly-set precious stones. From all windows were hung 
upon the walls large carpets, worked in leaves and flowers, representing holy pictures. Here Joseph led 
the ass on which sat the Madonna and the child; roses formed the faces, the feet, and the arms; gillyflowers 
and anemones their fluttering garments; and crowns were made of white water-lilies, brought from Lake 
Nemi. St Michael fought with the dragon; the holy Rosalia showered down roses upon the dark blue globe; 
wherever mv eye fell flowers related to me biblical legends, and the people all round were as joyful as 
myself. Rich foreigners, from beyond the mountains, clad in festal garments, stood in the balconies, and 
by the side of the houses moved along a vast crowd of people all in full holiday costume, each according 
to the fashion of his country. Beside the stone basin which surrounds the great fountain, where the street 
spreads itself out, my mother had taken her place, and I stood just before the satyr’s head which looks out 
from the waters. 
The sun burnt hotly, all the bells rung, and the procession moved along the beautiful flower carpet; 
the most charming music and singing announced its approach. Choristers swung the censer before the host ; 
the most beautiful girls of the country followed, with garlands of flowers in their hands and poor children 
with wings to their naked shoulders, sang hymns, as of angels, whilst awaiting the arrival of the pro- 
cession at the high altar. Young fellows wore fluttering ribands around their hats, upon which a picture 
of the Madonna was fastened; silver and gold rings hung to the chain around their necks, and handsome 
bright coloured scarfs looked splendidly upon their black velvet jackets. The girls of Albano and Frascati 
came, with their thin veils elegantly thrown over their black, plaited hair, in which was stuck the silver 
arrow. Those from Villetri, on the contrary, wore garlands around their hair, and a smart neckerchief, 
fastened so low down in the dress as to leave visible the shoulder. From Abruzzi, from the Marshes, from 
every other neighbouring district, came all in their peculiar national costume, and produced altogether the 
most brilliant effect. Cardinals, in their mantles woven with silver, advanced under canopies adorned with 
flowers; monks of various orders following, all bearing burning tapers.* 
* The Improvisatore, from the Danish of H. C. Anderson. 
