ood, in one sense, that sacred
books have been thrown broadcast on the world; it has, to a certain
extent, divested them of much of their peculiar value in the minds of
the multitude. This was strangely exemplified to me some few years ago,
when engaged in the suppression of the slave trade, on the east coast of
Africa. There was a sale of European effects at Zanzibar, and amongst
other articles was an Arab Bible--_i.e._ the Koran, translated into
English. British residents bid high for this prize; but the Arabs,
determined that their sacred book should not fall into the hands of
those whom they deemed as infidels, bid still higher, and eventually
carried it off. By-and-by there was an English Bible put up, and, in a
spirit of tit-for-tat, the Arabs bid high for this, supposing the
religious zeal of the British would have compelled them to bid still
higher. They, however, did nothing of the kind, and it was knocked down
to the disgusted Arabs, who now considered us a nation of infidels
indeed. It may be, that even in this way it was a good thing that a copy
of our Bible should fall into the hands of the zealous Mohammedans.

* * * * *

The Rialto is a graceful double bridge of white marble, which by a
single span bridges the Grand Canal, leading from the bustling
market-place to the opposite side, which is almost as busy. Like old
London Bridge, it is crowded with little hucksters' shops; and I fancy
there is little real change in the scene it presents from the time when
the immortal Shakespeare drew his Shylock and Antonio from life. The
Hebrew is still a prominent figure in the thronged thoroughfare; but his
victim, let us hope, is conspicuous by his absence. Humanity is somewhat
softened since those days of yore.

Although there are no wheel-vehicles in Venice, and horses are still as
scarce as in Byron's time (when there were said to be only eight horses
in the city--four on the top of St. Mark's, and four in his lordship's
stables), it is easy to walk from one end of Venice to the other when
you once know your bearings, which are rather difficult to obtain,
unless you carry a pocket-compass, as all the places are so much alike,
and it is as easy to lose your way as in a forest. The streets are
narrow and crowded with shops, being connected by small bridges spanning
the canals at all points. Some of these smaller canals are in anything
but a wholesome or odorous condition, receiving,