close by rose the lofty campanile and the three tall flag-staffs. We
sauntered for an hour about this grand central region, viewing the
outsides of things only, and dreaming of those scenes of the past with
which they were connected. After dinner, I again went out by myself to
walk through the town, for it was agreed that we should put off
regular sight-seeing till next day. Let not the reader be surprised to
hear of walking through Venice. It is permeated in all directions by
calles and narrow streets, which cross the canals by high-arched stone
bridges, thus giving pedestrian access to and from all parts of the
city. Certainly, however, no such thing as a leading thoroughfare
exists, and it must be difficult for strangers to acquire that local
knowledge which will enable them to find their way without a guide.
Unlike all other cities, no kind of vehicle, not so much as a
wheelbarrow, ever rattles along these narrow, tortuous ways. The
gondolas upon the canals are strictly the only conveyances used in
Venice. Thus the city has a stillness which, even in its most
brilliant days, must have impressed strangers with a sense of
melancholy. In our time, when Venice is reduced at once from
independence and from wealth, the effect is peculiarly depressing. I
felt as if Venice were only a _curiosity_ to look at for a few days,
not a place in which any considerable portion of life could be spent
with comfort.

Next morning, at eight o'clock, by which time we had breakfasted, a
gondola with two rowers waited for us at the porch of the hotel, along
with a clever, well-informed youth named Alessandro, who had
undertaken to be our _cicerone_. The charges for both gondolas and
guides had, we found, been raised since the late troubles, in common
with everything else in Venice, liberty being always somehow a
provocative to taxation, whether temporarily or permanently enjoyed.