mourn not over withered flowers, because others will replace them.

We have had the good fortune of witnessing a festival which takes place once only in a century. It is to commemorate the passing away of the plague at the intercession of the Virgin. This plague ravaged the city in 1630.

On the spot, at which the image of the Virgin carried in procession round the city stopped, at the moment the plague stayed its fury, a splendid church was raised, dedicated to S. Maria della Salute. The city has been absolutely alive with mirth and beauty, and music; a bridge of boats is thrown over to the church; it is crowded continually with well dressed persons; the steps leading from the water up to the church door are strewn and garlanded with flowers; the air is alive with music and laughter; it is a national holiday, and gives us a slight idea of what Venice was in the days of her glory, when her merchants were princes, and she sat like a throned queen on the waters. Some such an appearance as this she must have worn when blind old Dandolo went forth with the crusaders to the conquest of Constantinople; when Barbaro and his hundred noble Brescians visited her on account of the marriage of the doge's son, a Foscari, with the fair heiress of Contarini, and a bridge was thrown from the church of St. Samuel to the shores of St. Barnabas, that the nuptial train might go on horseback to fetch the bride;-when the emperor Frederic, and his young empress Eleonora, visited Venice, on their way from Rome, where he had been crowned, and the royal guests mingled in the dance, and rich

gifts were exchanged between the Senate and the strangers. These were indeed noble merchants, who gave to an empress a crown of gold set with gems.

When we were tired of listening to the noisy mirth, and drew in a friendly circle round the fire, St. Roy read to us a description from Sansovino of an ancient Venetian festival, by which we could see that little change in their ideas of enjoyment had been effected by time. In the year 1557, the Doge Lorenzo Priuli married Zilia Dandola. The streets were hung with tapestry, and decorated with triumphal arches, as they are now. When the bride reached St. Mark's, volleys of artillery poured forth, from every one of the hundred isles, and were horrible to the ear. The clamour of the thousands, who forced their way into the cathedral, was so deafening, that not one word of the speeches of the day could be heard; and in the state apartments of the ducal palace, each of the trades offered to her a splendid collation; but she, poor young creature! answered, "Siate ben trovati, et gran mercè, ove non fa bisogno, perchè ci sentiamo alquanto stanca." She might well be tired! Then came fireworks, supper, ball, and bull-baiting. The good Venetians, to be sure, had some excuse for these extraordinary festivities; a century had elapsed since they had seen a Dogaressa in their Bucentaur.

Sometimes we spend an hour at the theatre, and instead of "the carriage is ready," it is, "the gondola waits." But the pleasantest part of the evening is the return home in these same luxurious gondolas. Far away to the right and left of the great canal long rows of lights rise in tiers irregularly, and are reflected in the waters; not a sound is to be heard save

the regular splashing of the oar. Harry likens it to passing along an illuminated city of the dead.

Música is in especial extacies every day and all day long. She, poor child, begins to rave about home; for she too comes of an amphibious race, half mariners, half merchants; and Venice seems to her only Hydra on a larger scale. One evening, as we were returning from our tiny walk at dark, some poor old men were kneeling on the damp stones before a shrine at the foot of one of the bridges which connect the narrow streets. The shrine was consecrated to the service of sailors. Musica laid on the altar all the squancikers she had, and it was with some difficulty St. Roy prevented her from joining the devotees. I can understand this feeling of hers in a strange land: she sighed to kneel at the same altar whereat her kindred worship.

One rainy day we were confined to the house the whole morning, and as our time is somewhat limited, the gentlemen went sight-seeing, leaving us to amuse ourselves as well as we might. Truly was there no lack of amusement! we took our station in the spacious verandah, and while the children were busy dressing some dolls in Venetian costume, for some cousins at home, May and Violet sketched some of the grotesque figures below; and Frà and I, idly enough, sat alternately watching the noisy and merry groups without, and the happy party within.

The verandah overlooks the Rivage des Esclavons, broad enough and long enough for some business and much fun to be transacted thereon. In one corner was a shed, under which a man,-sheltered also by a huge umbrella, for the awning of his little domicile

was sadly given to admit the rain, was absorbed, heart and soul, in roasting chesnuts. Near at hand was a tailor seated on the ground tailor-fashion, so hard at work with his tongue and his needle, that the rain fell and he heeded it not. Then came a hawker selling pictures of the Virgin, very beautiful, with fine red roses in her hair, and very cheap: afterwards came Punch, laughter-loving, laughter-exciting Punch! If the "Useful Societies," and penny publications banish Punch from the rest of Europe, at any rate he will retain a home in Venice; and if the true philosophy of life is to be as happy as we can, I do not see but that Punch is as useful a member of society as many others; for here, at least, you have no choice; you must laugh at his antics. The other figures of this moving and motley scene were groups of long-bearded friars, their brown serge robes fastened by a cord; knots of Austrian soldiers, very fierce; women, some covered with the long black veil, others wearing a pertlooking Welsh hat, all dressed out with brightcoloured shawls and petticoats: then the noises,gondoliers shouting, women chattering, chesnut-man screaming, passengers remonstrating, while vainly seeking to force their way; and above all, and louder than all, jabbering and squeaking, Mister Punch himself. Oh, it was enough to cure the most inveterate ennui!-I almost expected, that between the noise and the crowd, the little one-arched bridge would fall.

The evening proved fine; we went on the water in time to see the sun set. A Venetian sunset is a sight never to be forgotten. After the sun had dipped, a pale pink hue overspread the sky, and the sea re

flected it. Afar off, on the very verge of the horizon, one little dome-crowned islet arose, coloured as with a light neutral tint, in the distance; while, in the foreground, a single gondola stood out in bold relief, and the gracefully bent figure of the gondolier just gave life enough to the scene,-one of nature's fairest.

St. Roy had been to the Frari, to see the tombs of the doges, on one of which, he said, were two-andtwenty marble figures, as large as life. Harry tried to tell, until words failed him, of St. Mark's Cathedral,—that strange, fanciful, gloomy, magnificent mixture of all architecture, to which, he says, almost every epithet in language may be applied.

I will not attempt to repeat his description, for words, however eloquent, would not give you half so clear an idea of it as you will receive from one of Prout's sketches: so, instead of essaying to do so, I will repeat to you a curious story relating to the square, illustrative of the people and the times, which we owe to Daru. The enlargement of St. Mark's square required, once upon a time, the demolition of a certain little tumble-down church dedicated to St. Geminien; but the Venetians, not being blessed with a lord mayor and efficient civil authorities, did not dare undertake the work of destruction without special permission from the Holy See. Their ambassador at Rome accordingly made known the wish of his countrymen to his Holiness.

"Mother Church," was the reply of the Pope, "does not sanction the performance of evil; but when it is done, she knows how to pardon."

On this hint the Venetians acted; and a punishment was duly awarded to them, which gave rise to a sin