The following letter was written to J---- while
Garibaldi was in charge of our hill-top, the bareness of which we strove
to cover with wild flowers until we could make just the kind of garden
we wanted:
March 15.
DEAR SIR:
The last time I had the pleasure of see you in your place, Villa
Collina Ridente, you exclaimed with a melancholic voice, "Only
poppies and mignonette came out of the wild flower seeds." "So it
is," said I in the same tune of voice. Time proved we was both
wrong; many other flowers made their retarded appearance, so
deserving the name of wild flower garden....
Your place (pardon _me_ as I am not a violet) could look better,
also could look worse; consequently I consider myself entitled to be
placed between hell and paradise--to have things as one wishes is an
insolvable problem--that era has not come yet.
Many people come over to the Smiling hills, some think it is not
necessary to go any farther to collect flower to make a bouquet.
With forced gentle manner I reproached some of them, ordering to
observe the rule, "vedere e non toccare." It go in force while I am
present, not so in my absence.
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