It was from this bridge that one Sunday morning I watched the very complete removal of a family from the Giudecca to another domicile in the city proper.  The household effects were all piled up in the one boat, which father and elder son, a boy of about twelve, propelled.  Mother and baby sat on a mattress, high up, while two ragged girls and another boy hopped about where they could and shouted with excitement.  As soon as the Rio di S. Trovaso was entered the oarsmen gave up rowing and clawed their way along the wall.  Moving has ever been a delight to English children, the idea of a change of house being eternally alluring, but what would they not give to make the exchange of homes like this?

We should walk beside this pleasant Rio, for a little way down on the left is the church of S. Trovaso, with a campo that still retains some of the grass which gave these open spaces their name, and a few graceful acacia trees.  In this church is a curiously realistic “Adoration of the Magi” by Tintoretto:  a moving scene of life in which a Spanish-looking peasant seems strangely out of place.  An altar in a little chapel has a beautiful shallow relief which should not be overlooked.  The high-altar picture—­a “Temptation of S. Anthony” by Tintoretto—­is now hidden by a golden shrine, while another of the show pieces, a saint on horseback, possibly by Jacobello del Fiore, in the chapel to the left of the choir, is sadly in need of cleaning, but obviously deserving of every care.

We now return to the Zattere, in a house on which, just beyond the Rio di S. Trovaso.  Browning often stayed.  In one of his letters he thus describes the view from his room:  “Every morning at six, I see the sun rise; far more wonderfully, to my mind, than his famous setting, which everybody glorifies.  My bedroom window commands a perfect view—­the still grey lagune, the few seagulls flying, the islet of S. Giorgio in deep shadow, and the clouds in a long purple rack, behind which a sort of spirit of rose burns up till presently all the ruins are on fire with gold, and last of all the orb sends before it a long column of its own essence apparently:  so my day begins.”

Still keeping beside the shipping, we proceed to the little Albergo of the Winds where the fondamenta ends.  Here we turn to the right, cross a campo with a school beside it, and a hundred boys either playing on the stones or audible at their lessons within walls, and before us, on the other side of the canal, is the church of S. Sebastiano, where the superb Veronese painted and all that was mortal of him was laid to rest in 1588.  Let us enter.

For Paolo Veronese at his best, in Venice, you must go to the Doges’ Palace and the Accademia.  Nearer home he is to be found in the Salon Carre in the Louvre, where his great banqueting scene hangs, and in our own National Gallery, notably in the beautiful S. Helena, more beautiful, to my mind, than anything of his in Venice, and not only more beautiful but more simple and sincere, and also in the magnificent “House of Darius”.