short of legs, rowed up and down the canal in a boat, and overhauled
Charity in the gondolas. He was a singular compromise, in his vocation and
his equipment, between the mendicant and corsair: I fear he would not have
hesitated to assume the pirate altogether in lonelier waters; and had I
been a heavily laden oyster-boat returning by night through some remote
and dark canal, I would have steered clear of that truculent-looking
craft, of which the crew must have fought with a desperation proportioned
to the lack of legs and the difficulty of running away, in case of defeat.

About nightfall came the market boats on their way to the Rialto market,
bringing heaped fruits and vegetables from the main-land; and far into the
night the soft dip of the oar, and the gurgling progress of the boats was
company and gentlest lullaby. By which time, if we looked out again, we
found the moon risen, and the ghost of dead Venice shadowily happy in
haunting the lonesome palaces, and the sea, which had so loved Venice,
kissing and caressing the tide-worn marble steps where her feet seemed to
rest.

At night sometimes we saw from our balcony one of those _freschi_,
which once formed the chief splendor of festive occasions in Venice, and
are peculiar to the city, where alone their fine effects are possible. The
fresco is a procession of boats with music and lights. Two immense barges,
illumined with hundreds of paper lanterns, carry the military bands; the
boats of the civil and military dignitaries follow, and then the gondolas
of such citizens as choose to take part in the display,--though since 1859
no Italian, unless a government official, has been seen in the procession.
No gondola has less than two lanterns, and many have eight or ten,
shedding mellow lights of blue, and red, and purple, over uniforms and
silken robes. The soldiers of the bands breathe from their instruments
music the most perfect and exquisite of its kind in the world; and as the