come from their casinos, and met to refresh themselves with fruit,
before they retired to sleep for the day.

Whilst I was observing them, the sun began to colour the balustrades
of the palaces, and the pure exhilarating air of the morning drawing
me abroad, I procured a gondola, laid in my provision of bread and
grapes, and was rowed under the Rialto, down the grand canal, to the
marble steps of S. Maria della Salute, erected by the Senate in
performance of a vow to the Holy Virgin, who begged off a terrible
pestilence in 1630. I gazed, delighted with its superb frontispiece
and dome, relieved by a clear blue sky. To criticize columns or
pediments of the different facades, would be time lost; since one
glance upon the worst view that has been taken of them, conveys a far
better idea than the most elaborate description. The great bronze
portal opened whilst I was standing on the steps which lead to it,
and discovered the interior of the dome, where I expatiated in
solitude; no mortal appearing except an old priest who trimmed the
lamps, and muttered a prayer before the high altar, still wrapped in
shadows. The sunbeams began to strike against the windows of the
cupola just as I left the church, and was wafted across the waves to
the spacious platform in front of St. Giorgio Maggiore, by far the
most perfect and beautiful edifice my eyes ever beheld.

When my first transport was a little subsided, and I had examined the
graceful design of each particular ornament, and united the just
proportion and grand effect of the whole in my mind, I planted my
umbrella on the margin of the sea, and reclining under its shade, my
feet dangling over the waters, viewed the vast range of palaces, of
porticos, of towers, opening on every side and extending out of
sight. The Doge's residence and the tall columns at the entrance of