I asked him if any thing ever really grew there. He shrugged his
shoulders, and said, "Sometimes."
We pursued this walk till we came to the end of the lake, and there he
showed me a stone pillar.
"There," said he, "beyond that pillar is Italy."
"Well," said I, "I believe I shall take a trip into Italy." So, as he
turned back to go to the house, W. and I continued on. We went some
way into Italy, down the ravine, and I can assure you I was not
particularly struck with the country.
I observed no indications of that superiority in the fine arts, or of
that genial climate and soil, of which I had heard so much. W. and I
agreed to give ourselves airs on this subject whenever the matter of
Italy was introduced, and to declare that we had been there, and had
seen none of the things of which people write in books.
"What a perfectly dismal, comfortless place!" said I; but climbing up
the rocks to rest me in a sunny place, I discovered that they were all
enamelled with the most brilliant flowers.
