re charming,
though momma wishes it to be understood that the modern Portia wears her
bodice cut rather too low in the neck and gazes much too softly at the
modern Bassanio. Poppa and I thought it mere amiability that scorned to
conceal itself, but momma referred to it otherwise, admitting, however,
that she found it fascinating to watch.

We seemed to disembark at a restaurant permanent among flowing waters,
so prominent was this feature of the island, but it had only a roof, and
presently we noticed a little grass and some bushes as well. The verdure
had quite a novel look, and we decided to discourage the casual person
who wished to sell us strange and uncertified shell fish from a basket
for immediate consumption, and follow it up.

Dicky was of opinion that we might arrive at the vegetable gardens of
Venice, but in this we were disappointed. We came instead to a
street-car, and half a mile of arbour, and all the Venetians pleasurably
preparing to take carriage exercise. The horses seemed to like the idea
of giving it to them, they were quite light-hearted, one of them
actually pawed. They were the only horses in Venice, they felt their
dignity and their responsibility in a way foreign to animals in the
public service, anywhere else in the world. Personally we would have
preferred to walk to the other end of the arbour, but it would have
seemed a slight, and, as the Senator said, we weren't in Venice to hurt
anybody's feelings that belonged there. It would have been extravagant
too, since the steamboat ticket included the drive at the end. So we
struggled anxiously for good places, and proceeded to the other side
with much circumstance, enjoying ourselves as hard as possible. Dicky
said he never had such a good time; but that was because he had
exhausted Venice and his patience, and was going on to Verona next day.

The arbour and the grass and the street-car track ended sharply and all
together at a raised wooden walk that led across the sand to a pavilion
hanging over the Adriatic, and here we sat and watched other Venetians
disporting themselves in the water below. They were glorious creatures,
and they disported themselves nobly, keeping so well in view of the
pavilion and such a steady eye upon the spectators that poppa had an
impulsive desire to feed them with macaroons. He decided not to; you
never could tell, he said, what might be considered a liberty by
foreigners; but he had a hard struggle with the tem