bitter-orange stock. The plants raised from seed, lemon and sweet
orange, fell prey to disease, so the cultivators found it safe only to
raise the native bitter orange, and then graft upon it.

And the maestra--she is the schoolmistress, who wears black gloves while
she teaches us Italian--says that the lemon was brought by St Francis of
Assisi, who came to the Garda here and founded a church and a monastery.
Certainly the church of San Francesco is very old and dilapidated, and
its cloisters have some beautiful and original carvings of leaves and
fruit upon the pillars, which seem to connect San Francesco with the
lemon. I imagine him wandering here with a lemon in his pocket. Perhaps
he made lemonade in the hot summer. But Bacchus had been before him in
the drink trade.

Looking at his lemons, the Signore sighed. I think he hates them. They
are leaving him in the lurch. They are sold retail at a halfpenny each
all the year round. 'But that is as dear, or dearer, than in England,' I
say. 'Ah, but,' says the maestra, 'that is because your lemons are
outdoor fruit from Sicily. _Pero_--one of our lemons is as good as _two_
from elsewhere.'

It is true these lemons have an exquisite fragrance and perfume, but
whether their force as lemons is double that of an ordinary fruit is a
question. Oranges are sold at fourpence halfpenny the kilo--it comes
about five for twopence, small ones. The citrons are sold also by weight
in Salo for the making of that liqueur known as 'Cedro'. One citron
fetches sometimes a shilling or more, but then the demand is necessarily
small. So that it is evident, from these figures, the Lago di Garda
cannot afford to grow its lemons much longer. The gardens are already
many of them in ruins, and still more 'Da Vendere'.