s' heads and no lettering.

The sixth has virtues and vices and is repeated in the fourth on the
Piazzetta.

The seventh has cranes, and is repeated in the third on the Piazzetta.

The eighth has vices again and is repeated in the seventh on the
Piazzetta. Above it are traces of a medallion over three triangles.

The ninth has virtues and is repeated in the eighth on the Piazzetta.

The tenth has symbolical figures, and is repeated in the sixth on the
Piazzetta.

The eleventh has vices and virtues and is repeated in the ninth on the
Piazzetta.

The twelfth has female heads and no lettering.

The thirteenth has named rulers: Octavius, Titus, Trajan, Priam, Darius,
and so forth, all crowned and ruling.

The fourteenth has children and no lettering.

The fifteenth has heads, male and female, and no lettering. Above it was
once another medallion and three triangles.

The sixteenth has pelicans and no lettering.

The seventeenth and last has children with symbols and no lettering.

Above this, on the corner by the bridge, is the group representing the
Sin of Ham. Noah's two sons are very attractive figures. Above the Noah
group is the Angel Raphael.

The gateway of the palace--the Porta della Carta--was designed by
Giovanni and Bartolommeo Bon, father and son, in the fourteen thirties
and forties. Francesco Foscari (1423-1457) being then Doge, it is he who
kneels to the lion on the relief above, and again on the balcony of the
Piazzetta facade. At the summit of the portal is Justice once more, with
two attendant lions, cherubs climbing to her, and live pigeons for ever
nestling among them. I counted thirty-five lions' heads in the border of
the window and thirty-five in the border of the door, and these, with
Foscari's one and Justice's two, and those on the shields on each side
of the window, make seventy-five lions for this gateway alone. Then
there are lions' heads between the circular upper arches all along each
facade of the palace.

It would be amusing to have an exact census of the lions of Venice, both
winged and without wings. On the Grand Canal alone there must be a
hundred of the little pensive watchers that sit on the balustrades
peering down. As to which is the best lion, opinions must, of course,
differ, the range being so vast: between, say, the lion on the Molo
column and Daniele Manin's flamboyant sentinel at the foot of the statue
in his Campo. Some would choose Carpaccio's painted lion in