I find boxes, papers, straw, vegetable waste, all cast indifferently into the water and all borne swiftly out to sea. People open windows and cast out packages as if this were the only way. I walked into the Banca di Napoli this afternoon, facing the Grand Canal. It was only a few moments after the regular closing hour. I came upon it from some narrow lane--some “dry street.” It was quite open, the ground floor. There was a fine, dark-columned hall opening out upon the water. Where were the clerks, I wondered? There were none. Where that ultimate hurry and sense of life that characterizes the average bank at this hour? Nowhere. It was lovely, open, dark,--as silent as a ruin. When did the bank do business, I asked myself. No answer. I watched the waters from its steps and then went away. * * * * * One of the little tricks of the architects here is to place a dainty little Gothic balcony above a door, perhaps the only one on the façade, and that hung with vines. * * * * * Venice is mad about campaniles. It has a dozen, I think, some of them leaning, like the tower at Pisa. * * * * * I must not forget the old rose of the clouds in the west. * * * * * A gondolier selling vegetables and crying his wares is pure music. At my feet white steps laved by whitish-blue water. Tall, cool, damp walls, ten feet apart. Cool, wet, red brick pavements. The sun shining above makes one realize how lovely and cool it is here; and birds singing everywhere. * * * * * Gondolas doing everything, carrying casks, coal, lumber, lime, stone, flour, bricks, and boxed supplies generally, and others carrying vegetables, fruit, kindling and flowers. Only now I saw a boat slipping by crowded with red geraniums. * * * * * Lovely pointed windows and doors; houses, with colonnades, trefoils, quadrifoils, and exquisite fluted cornices to match, making every house that strictly adheres to them a jewel. It is Gothic, crossed with Moorish and Byzantine fancy. Some of them take on the black and white of London smoke, though why I have no idea. Others being colored richly at first are weathered by time into lovely half-colors or tones. * * * * *