orized persons. Turning to the left we are beneath the arcade of
the house of the ill-fated Marino Faliero, the Doge who was put to death
for treason, as I have related elsewhere. It is now shops and tenements.
Opposite is the church of SS. Apostoli, which is proud of possessing an
altar-piece by Tiepolo which some think his finest work, and of which
the late John Addington Symonds wrote in terms of excessive rapture. It
represents the last communion of S. Lucy, whose eyes were put out. Her
eyes are here, in fact, on a plate. No one can deny the masterly drawing
and grouping of the picture, but, like all Tiepolo's work, it leaves me
cold.

I do not suggest the diversion at this moment; but from SS. Apostoli
one easily gains the Fondamenta Nuovo, on the way passing through a
rather opener Venice where canals are completely forgotten. Hereabouts
are two or three popular drinking places with gardens, and on one Sunday
afternoon I sat for some time in the largest of them--the Trattoria alla
Libra--watching several games of bowls--the giuocho di bocca--in full
swing. The Venetian workman--and indeed the Italian workman
generally--is never so happy as when playing this game, or perhaps he is
happiest when--ball in hand--he discusses with his allies various lines
of strategy. The Giudecca is another stronghold of the game, every
little bar there having a stamped-down bowling alley at the back of it.

The longest direct broad walk in Venice--longer than the Riva--begins at
SS. Apostoli and extends to the railway station. The name of the street
is the Via Vittorio Emmanuele, and in order to obtain it many canals had
to be filled-in. To the loss of canals the visitor is never reconciled.
Wherever one sees the words Rio Terra before the name of a calle, one
knows that it is a filled-in canal. For perhaps the best example of the
picturesque loss which this filling-in entails one should seek the Rio
Terra delle Colonne, which runs out of the Calle dei Fabri close to the
Piazza of S. Mark. When this curved row of pillars was at the side of
water it must have been impressive indeed.

And now we must return to the Goldoni statue to resume that other
itinerary over the Rialto bridge, which is as much the centre of Venice
by day as S. Mark's Square is by night. In another chapter I speak of
the bridge as seen from the Grand Canal, which it so nobly leaps. More
attractive is the Grand Canal as seen from it; and the visitor to Venice
sho