“Some years ago, a friend of mine visiting Brussels went over the Royal Lace Manufactory, and seeing a woman busily at work on a very fine, and, according to the then fashion, large, collar, went up to her, and inquired how long she had been over this one piece. The woman answered, four years; and handed the work for my friend to examine more closely, but without changing her position, or lifting her eyes from the spot on which they were fixed; and on being asked the reason of this, said it would take too long time to have again to fix her eyes, so she kept them to the one spot through all the working hours. This is quite true. But the women were working in a large, light room—I doubt the correctness of the dark cellar, and do not see the reason for it—but all who have ever done any fine work can understand the loss of time in moving the eyes. But, after all, is lace-making worse for women than the ceaseless treadle movement of the sewing-machine? Lace-making hurts eyes only; the machine injures the whole woman—so I am told.” V. A letter from a Methodist minister, though written on the 14th, only reaches me here at Venice on the 28th. It will appear in next Fors. The gist of it is contradiction of Mr. Sillar’s statement that the Wesleyans altered John Wesley’s rules. “The alterations, whether good or bad,” (says my new correspondent,) “were made by himself.” I am not surprised to hear this; for had Wesley been a wise Christian, there would no more, now, have been Wesleyan than Apollosian ministers. FORS CLAVIGERA. LETTER LXXI. Venice, 4th October, 1876. I am able at last to give you some of the long-promised opinions of Carpaccio on practical subjects; not that, except ironically, I ever call them ‘opinions.’ There are certain men who know the truths necessary to human life; they do not ‘opine’ them; and nobody’s ‘opinions,’ on any subject, are of any consequence opposed to them. Hesiod is one of these, Plato another, Dante another, Carpaccio is another. He speaks little, and among the inspired painters may be thought of as one of the lesser prophets; but his brief book is of extreme value. I have been happy enough to get two of my faithful scholars to work upon it for me; and they have deciphered it nearly all—much more, at all events, than I can tell you either in this Fors, or in several to come. His message is written in the Venetian manner, by painting the myths of the saints, in his own way. If you will look into the introduction to the ‘Queen of the Air,’ you will find it explained that a great myth can only be written in the central time of a nation’s power. This prophecy of Carpaccio’s may be thought of by you as the sweetest, because the truest, of all that Venice was born to utter: the painted syllabling of it is nearly the last work and word of her’s in true life. She speaks it, and virtually, thereafter, dies, or begins to die.