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BY ORDER OF THE CZAR. 343

On the opposite shore the lake was bordered by a sweep of architecture that melted away into hill anddalj; and far off on the right the snow mountains pretended they were white clouds capping the rich blue of the sky. In the little town there was a piazza out of which every now and then ran narrow street ways up to the hills; little streets literally of climbing steps. When you looked up these narrow ways and saw women coming down with children in their arms, or men lolling against curious door- ways, you could only wish you were an artist with nothing else in the world to do but to put these pictures into black and white for magazines, or better still, into all their glory of color for popular picture galleries. When the luscious- ness of full summer comes to Lake Como, and rests upon the clustering hills of Bellaggio, and dreams in a sunny glow down in the valleys, it is no stretch of fancy to imagine the perfumed light of some marble palace stealing through the mist of alabaster lamps, and every air

" Heavy with the sighs

Of orange groves and music from sweet lutes, And murmurs of low fountains that gush forth V the mist of roses."

" Of course I like the picture," said Dolly, " but not for always, Sam.' 7 '

" How do you mean ? " he asked, pressing her arm as they lounged upon the terrace watching the light and shade upon the distant hills.

" Beautiful for a visit," said Dolly ; " perfectly lovely, but too good for the likes of I, as Walter's gardener says down in the Midlands."

" You really feel like that ? " said Sam. " I'm so awfully glad, because I was thinking somewhat in that direction."

"Really? "she asked