extraordinary. It flew by every thing on the river, yet no one was
visible on board. It had no sail up, no steersman, no rower; yet it
plunged and rushed along with the swiftness of a bird. The Vicentine
populace are behind none of their brethren in superstition, and at the
sight of the flying chaloupe, the groups came running from the Campo
Marzo. The Monte Berrico was speedily left without a pilgrim, and the
banks of the Bachiglione were, for the first time since the creation,
honoured with the presence of the Venetian authorities, and even of the
sublime podesta [the governor, a Venetian noble.] himself.

But it was fortunate for them that the flying phenomenon had reached the
open space formed by the conflux of the three rivers, before the crowd
became excessive; for, just as it had darted out from the narrow
channel, lined on both sides with the whole thirty thousand old,
middle-aged, and young, men, maids, and matrons of the city, a thick
smoke was seen rising from its poop, its frame quivered, and, with a
tremendous explosion, the chaloupe rose into the air in ten thousand
fragments of fire.

The multitude were seized with consternation; and the whole fell on
their knees, from the sublime podesta himself, to the humblest
saffron-gatherer. Never was there such a mixture of devotion. Never was
there such a concert of exclamations, sighs, callings on the saints, and
rattling of beads. The whole concourse lay for some minutes with their
very noses rubbing to the ground, until they were all roused at once by
a loud burst of laughter. Thirty thousand pair of eyes were lifted up at
the instant, and all fixed in astonishment on a human figure, seen
calmly sitting on the water, in the very track of the explosion, and
still half hidden in the heavy mass of smoke that curled in a huge globe
over the remnants. The laugh had proceeded from him, and the nearer he