of the new campanile angel--to shine in golden glory over the city and
also to tell the wind--must be a little mortifying to her celestial
sister on the campanile of S. Giorgio, who is immovable. But no doubt
she has philosophy enough to consider subjection to the caprices of the
breeze a humiliation.

Another change for which one cannot be too grateful is the lift. For the
modest price of a franc one can be whirled to the belfry in a few
seconds at any time of the day and refresh one's eyes with the city and
the lagoon, the Tyrolese Alps, and the Euganean hills. Of old one
ascended painfully; but never again. Before the fall there were five
bells, of which only the greatest escaped injury. The other four were
taken to a foundry set up on the island of Sant'Elena and there fused
and recast at the personal cost of His Holiness the late Pope, who was
Patriarch of Venice. I advise no one to remain in the belfry when the
five are at work. They begin slowly and with some method; they proceed
to a deafening cacophony, tolerable only when one is far distant.

There are certain surprises in the view from the campanile. One is that
none of the water of the city is visible--not a gleam--except a few
yards of the Grand Canal and a stretch of the Canale della Giudecca; the
houses are too high for any of the by-ways to be seen. Another
revelation is that the floor pattern of the Piazza has no relation to
its sides. The roofs of Venice we observe to be neither red nor brown,
but something between the two. Looking first to the north, over the
three flagstaffs and the pigeon feeders and the Merceria clock, we see
away across the lagoon the huge sheds of the dirigibles and (to the
left) the long railway causeway joining Venice to the mainland as by a
thread. Immediately below us in the north-east are the domes of S.
Mark's, surmounted by the graceful golden balls on their branches,