of the outlandish tongues the people spoke hereabouts:”  he inquired what was to be seen here, for though he had been four days in Venice, he had spent every day precisely in the same manner; viz. walking up and down the public gardens.  We told him Venice was famous for fine buildings and pictures; he knew nothing of them things.  And that it contained also, “some fine statues and antiques”—­he cared nothing about them neither—­he should set off for Florence the next morning, and begged to know what was to be seen there?  Mr. R——­told him, with enthusiasm, “the most splendid gallery of pictures and statues in the world!” He looked very blank and disappointed.  “Nothing else?” then he should certainly not waste his time at Florence, he should go direct to Rome; he had put down the name of that town in his pocket-book, for he understood it was a very convenient place:  he should therefore stay there a week; thence he should go to Naples, a place he had also heard of, where he should stay another week:  then he should go to Algiers, where he should stay three weeks, and thence to Tunis, where he expected to be very comfortable, and should probably make a long stay; thence he should return home, having seen every thing worth seeing.  He scarcely seemed to know how or by what route he had got to Venice—­but he assured us he had come “fast enough;”—­he remembered no place he had passed through except Paris.  At Paris he told us there was a female lodging in the same hotel with himself, who by his description appears to have been a single lady of rank and fashion, travelling with her own carriages and a suite of servants.  He had never seen her; but learning through the domestics that she was travelling the same route, he sat down and wrote her a long letter, beginning “Dear Madam,” and proposing they should join company, “for the sake of good fellowship, and the bit of chat they might have on their way.”  Of course she took no notice of this strange billet, “from which,” added he with ludicrous simplicity, “I supposed she would rather travel alone.”

Truly, “Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time.”  After this specimen, sketched from life, who will say there are such things as caricatures?

* * * * *

We visited to-day the Giant’s Staircase and the Bridge of Sighs, and took a last farewell of St. Mark—­we were surprised to see the church hung with black—­the festoons of flowers all removed—­masses going forward at several altars, and crowds of people looking particularly solemn and devout.  It is the “Giorno dei morte,” the day by the Roman Catholics consecrated to the dead.  I observed many persons, both men and women, who wept while they prayed, with every appearance of the most profound grief.  Leaving St. Mark, I crossed the square.  On the three lofty standards in front of the church formerly floated the ensigns of the three states subjects to Venice,—­the Morea, Cyprus, and Candia:  the bare poles remain, but the ensigns of empire are gone.  One of the standards was extended on the ground, and being of immense length, I hesitated for a moment whether I should make a circuit, but at last stepped over it.  I looked back with remorse, for it was like trampling over the fallen.