play's the thing," was refined down to "Amleto's the thing". Yet no
English theatre was ever in better spirits.

[Illustration: THE ASSUMPTION OF THE VIRGIN
FROM THE PAINTING BY TITIAN
_In the Accademia_]

Continuing from the Bridge of the Oysters, we come shortly to S.
Zobenigo, or S. Maria del Giglio (of the lily), of which the guide-books
take very little account, but it is a friendly, cheerful church with a
sweet little dark panelled chapel at the side, all black and gold with
rich tints in its scriptural frieze. The church is not famous for any
picture, but it has a quaint relief of S. Jerome in his cell, with his
lion and his books about him, in the entrance hall, and the first
altar-piece on the left seemed to me a pleasant soft thing, and over the
door are four female saints freely done. On the facade are stone maps of
Zara, Candia, Padua, Rome, Corfu, and Spalata, which originally were
probably coloured and must then have been very gay, and above are stone
representations of five naval engagements.

All that remains of S. Zobenigo's campanile is the isolated structure in
the Piazza. It did not fall but was taken down in time.

Still following the stream and maintaining as direct a line as the calli
permit, we come, by way of two more bridges, a church (S. Maurizio), and
another bridge, to the great Campo Morosoni where S. Stefano is
situated.

For sheer comfort and pleasure I think that S. Stefano is the first
church in Venice. It is spacious and cheerful, with a charming rosetted
ceiling and carved and coloured beams across the nave, and a bland light
illumines all. It is remarkable also as being one of the very few
Venetian churches with cloisters. Here one may fancy oneself in Florence
if one has the mind. The frescoes are by Pordenone, but they have almost
perished. By some visitors to Venice, S. Stefano may be esteemed
furthermore as offering a harbour of refuge from pictures, for it has
nothing that need be too conscientiously scrutinized.

The fine floor tomb with brass ornaments is that of Francesco Morosoni,
the heroic defender of Candia against the Turks until, in 1669, further
resistance was found to be useless and he made an honourable retreat.
Later he was commander of the forces in a new war against the Turks, and
in 1686 he was present at the sack of Athens and did what he could
(being a lover of the arts as well as a soldier) to check the destroying
zeal of his army. It was there th