These little canals are heavenly! They wind like scattered ribbons, flung broadcast, and the wind touches them only in spots, making the faintest ripples. Mostly they are as still as death. They have exquisite bridges crossing in delightful arches and wonderful doors and steps open into them, steps gray or yellow or black with age, steps that have green and brown moss on them and that are alternately revealed or hidden by a high or low tide. Here comes a gondolier now, peddling oranges. The music of his voice! * * * * * Latticework is everywhere, and it so obviously _belongs_ here. Latticework in the churches, the houses, the public buildings. Venice loves it. It is oriental and truly beautiful. * * * * * I find myself at a branch station of the water street-car service. There are gondolas here, too,--a score for hire. This man hails me genially, his brown hands and face, and small, old, soft roll hat a picture in the sun. I feel as if I were dreaming or as if this were some exquisite holiday of my childhood. One could talk for years of these passages in which, amidst the shadow and sunlight of cool, gray walls a gleam of color has shown itself. You look down narrow courts to lovely windows or doors or bridges or niches with a virgin or a saint in them. Now it is a black-shawled housewife or a fat, phlegmatic man that turns a corner; now a girl in a white skirt and pale green shawl, or a red skirt and a black shawl. Unexpected doorways, dark and deep with pleasant industries going on inside, bakeries with a wealth of new, warm bread; butcheries with red meat and brass scales; small restaurants, where appetizing roasts and meat-pies are displayed. Unexpected bridges, unexpected squares, unexpected streams of people moving in the sun, unexpected terraces, unexpected boats, unexpected voices, unexpected songs. That is Venice. * * * * * To-day I took a boat on the Grand Canal to the Giardino which is at the eastern extreme of the city. It was evening. I found a lovely island just adjoining the gardens--a Piazza d’Arena. Rich green grass and a line of small trees along three sides. Silvery water. A second leaning tower and more islands in the distance. Cool and pleasant, with that lovely sense of evening in the air which comes only in spring. They said it would be cold in Venice, but it isn’t. Birds twittering, the waters of the bay waveless, the red, white and brown colors of the city showing in rich patches. I think if there is a heaven on earth, it is Venice in spring. * * * * *