ver find its way into
a book; and even if it did, no reader could extract it again. The best
of Venice must be one's own discovery and one's own possession; and one
must seek it, as Browning loved to do, in the narrow calli, in the tiny
canals, in the smaller campi, or seated idly on bridges careless of
time. Chiefly on foot does one realize the inner Venice.

I make no effort in this work to pass on any detailed account of my
researches in this way. All I would say is that every calle leads to
another; there is hardly a dull inch in the whole city; and for the
weary some kind of resting-place--a church, a wine shop, a cafe, or a
stone step--is always close by. If you are lost--and in Venice in the
poorer populous districts a map is merely an aggravation of dismay,
while there is no really good map of the city to be obtained--there is
but one thing to do and that is to go on. Before very long you must of
necessity come to a calle with more traffic than the others and then you
need but flow with the stream to reach some recognizable centre; or
merely say "San Marco" or "gondola" to the first boy and he will
consider it a privilege to guide you. Do not, however give up before you
must, for it is a privilege to be lost in Venice.

For those who prefer exercise to sitting in a gondola there is the
stimulating and instructive book by the late Col. Douglas, _Venice on
Foot_, which is a mine of information and interest; but I must admit
that the title is against it. Youthful travellers in particular will
have none of it. If Venice is anything at all to them, it is a city of
water, every footstep in which is an act of treachery to romance.

Even they, however, are pleased to jostle in the Merceria.

[Illustration: THE GRAND CANAL, SHOWING S. MARIA DELLA SALUTE]

The shops of Venice, I may say at once, are not good. They satisfy the
Venetians, no doubt, but the Venetians are not hard to please; there is
no Bond Street or Rue de la Paix. But a busy shopping centre always
being amusing, the Merceria and Frezzeria become attractive haunts of
the stranger; the Merceria particularly so. To gain this happy hunting
ground one must melt away with the crowd through the gateway under the
famous blue clock, which is worth a visit on account of its two bronze
giants: one punctual and one late, for that one on the left of the bell,
as we face the tower from the Piazza, is always a minute or two after
his brother in striking the hours