Water! Water! The music of all earthly elements. The lap of water! The sigh of water! The flow of water! In Venice you have it everywhere. It sings at the base of your doorstep; it purrs softly under your window; it suggests the eternal rhythm and the eternal flow at every angle. Time is running away; life is running away, and here in Venice, at every angle (under your window) is its symbol. I know of no city which at once suggests the lapse of time hourly, momentarily, and yet soothes the heart because of it. For all its movement or because of it, it is gay, light-hearted, without being enthusiastic. The peace that passes all understanding is here, soft, rhythmic, artistic. Venice is as gay as a song, as lovely as a jewel (an opal or an emerald), as rich as marble and as great as verse. There can only be one Venice in all the world! * * * * * No horses, no wagons, no clanging of cars. Just the patter of human feet. You listen here and the very language is musical. The voices are soft. Why should they be loud? They have nothing to contend with. I am wild about this place. There is a sweetness in the hush of things which woos, and yet it is not the hush of silence. All is life here, all movement--a sweet, musical gaiety. I wonder if murder and robbery can flourish in any of these sweet streets. The life here is like that of children playing. I swear in all my life I have never had such ravishing sensations of exquisite art-joy, of pure, delicious enthusiasm for the physical, exterior aspect of a city. It is as mild and sweet as moonlight itself. * * * * * This hotel, Royal Danieli, is a delicious old palace, laved on one side by a canal. My room commands the whole of the Lagoon. George Sand and Alfred de Musset occupied a room here somewhere. Perhaps I have it. * * * * * Venice is so markedly different from Florence. There all is heavy, somber, defensive, serious. Here all is light, airy, graceful, delicate. There could be no greater variation. Italy is such a wonderful country. It has Florence, Venice, Rome and Naples, to say nothing of Milan and the Riviera, which should really belong to it. No cornices here in Venice. They are all left behind in Florence. * * * * * What shall I say of St. Mark’s and the Ducal Palace--mosaics of history, utterly exquisite. The least fragment of St. Mark’s I consider of the utmost value. The Ducal Palace should be guarded as one of the great treasures of the world. It is perfect. * * * * * [Illustration: There can only be one Venice]