Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility. IT is a day in early summer, as beautiful as such days were in the Southern lands Of 500 years ago. It is Italy steeped in golden sunlight which lies like a haze over the spreading View the year I360, when cities were beautiful and nature all-pervading. Here is Lombardy, Spread like a garden in the hollow of the hills, ringed about with the purple Apennines, covered with flowers, white, yellow, purple, and pink. This wide road, one of the finest in Italy, winds from Milan to Brescia, its whole length through chestnut woods and plains covered with flowering myrtle. Primroses in great Clusters border its sides, and from the midst of their delicate blooms Spring the slender stems of poplar trees; these are red-gold, bursting into bloom against a tender Sky tufts of young green; clumps of wild Violets. But for all its unspoiled beauty, the road was one of common use, for Milan was within hail. Villas, the summer dwellings of its wealthy peers, stood back among the trees, surrounded by magnificent grounds. Behind them beautiful Open country spread into the blue distance, fragrant and glorious with budding trees. And cold and magnificent the great city itself, with its huge walls and gates, crowned and emphasised the landscape’s beauty.
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