Lands of summer; . unknown, perhaps,to any but ourselves. In that hope we self-ishly refrained from mentioning the PonteDiscreto, as we named the bridge, to ourchance acquaintances of the inn. Since then,we have withheld the clue to its hiding-place, religiously, from all the world. That,as we trust, is still our secret, to be keptalways unrevealed. For we mean to go backsome day â the earlier day, the better â torediscover the lost trail. In due course, we returned by Gavinanato Pracchia, thence proceeding through thetunnels toward Venice and the sea. On thejourney we wondered if Abetone real
Lands of summer; . unknown, perhaps,to any but ourselves. In that hope we self-ishly refrained from mentioning the PonteDiscreto, as we named the bridge, to ourchance acquaintances of the inn. Since then,we have withheld the clue to its hiding-place, religiously, from all the world. That,as we trust, is still our secret, to be keptalways unrevealed. For we mean to go backsome day â the earlier day, the better â torediscover the lost trail. In due course, we returned by Gavinanato Pracchia, thence proceeding through thetunnels toward Venice and the sea. On thejourney we wondered if Abetone really is, 138 Midsummer in Tuscany as one of our Florentine friends declares,the finest spot on earth. Our limited know-ledge of the planet leaves the question stillunsolved; but so far as that knowledgegoes, at least/ to quote Hamlet with adifference, it may be so in Tuscany ; * forno spot there springs up in our remem-brance to compete with it, â except, per-haps, Camaldoli. Bergamo and the Bergamasque Alps.
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