the ubiquitous beggars, no less than the habitual abstemiousness of every
class of the population, become the most perplexing and maddening of
anomalies.



CHAPTER VII.

HOUSEKEEPING IN VENICE.


I hope that it is by a not unnatural progress I pass from speaking of
dinners and diners to the kindred subject of the present chapter, and I
trust the reader will not disdain the lowly-minded muse that sings this
mild domestic lay. I was resolved in writing this book to tell what I had
found most books of travel very slow to tell,--as much as possible of the
everyday life of a people whose habits are so different from our own;
endeavoring to develop a just notion of their character, not only from the
show-traits which strangers are most likely to see, but also from
experience of such things as strangers are most likely to miss.

The absolute want of society of my own nation in Venice would have thrown
me upon study of the people for my amusement, even if I had cared to learn
nothing of them; and the necessity of economical housekeeping would have
caused me to live in the frugal Venetian fashion, even if I had been
disposed to remain a foreigner in every thing. Of bachelor lodgings I had
sufficient experience during my first year; but as most prudent travelers
who visit the city for a week take lodgings, I need not describe my own
particularly. You can tell the houses in which there are rooms to let, by
the squares of white paper fastened to the window-shutters; and a casual