taly. It is severely Gothic; indeed, there is a certain
severity in most of the architecture of the town. There are some fine
paintings, chiefly by Guido and B. Quini. On either side of the porch
are the figures of the two Plinys, who used often to make the Villa
Pliniana their residence, writing many of their celebrated works there.
In the gardens of the villa is a fountain of which Pliny the younger
made frequent mention in his letters.

The Villa d'Este, some three miles from the town--built by Cardinal
Pompeo Galleo, who was born near Como and which afterwards became the
retreat of poor Queen Caroline of Georgian memory--is now annexed to the
well-known inn, the Regina d'Inghilterra. There are numerous other
beautiful villas, interesting both on account of their own merit and the
famous names associated with them.

The steamer leaves Como three times daily for excursions to various
parts of the lake. Carriages are also available to all points of
interest, and the rail goes straight to Bellagio. We preferred going by
water, and were soon steaming up the lake, crossing occasionally from
shore to shore to take in passengers. At first the morning was a little
dull and cold, giving a somewhat sombre tone to the scenery; but after a
time the sun shone out brightly, chasing away the shadows and lighting
up the wondrous beauties of the Alpine landscape, bringing forth glints
of coloured light from the dazzling waters, which reflected the blue sky
overhead--a charming and fairy-like change, as if the wand of some good
genius had been waved around, effecting a complete transformation.

The lake is some thirty miles in length, and its greatest width is about
two and a half miles. The depth in some parts is profound--some 1900
feet, and all around are the great lofty mountains. The fact of the two
shores being seen so distinctly add, I think, not a little to the
impressive grandeur of the scene. The mountain slopes are beautifully
wooded. Sometimes a great chasm intervenes; and, nestling picturesquely
here and there in bowers of green, or poised gracefully, commanding the
finest points and curves of the lake, or again scattered around the
shores, are the summer residences of the Milanese aristocracy. Winding
in and out, crossing from shore to shore, there is an ever-varying
panorama, delightful and unexpected surprises continually opening out to
the enraptured gaze. At each little station we come to a boat puts off
from the s