twenty years. My father had a beautiful model of a gondola, which he had brought with him [from Italy]. He set a great value upon it, and it was considered a great treat when I was allowed to play with it. The first beaks of tinned iron-plate, the black gondola-gratings, all greeted me like old acquaintances; and I experienced again dear emotions of my childhood which had been long unknown.
I am well lodged at the sign of the Queen of England, not far from the Square of St. Mark, which is, indeed, the chief advantage of the spot. My windows look upon a narrow canal between lofty houses: a bridge of one arch is immediately below me, and directly opposite is a narrow bustling alley. Thus am I lodged; and here I shall remain until I have made up my packet for Germany, and until I am satiated with the sight of the city. I can now really enjoy the solitude for which I have longed so ardently; for nowhere does a man feel more solitary than in a crowd, where, unknown to every one, he must push his way. Perhaps in Venice there is only one person who knows me, and he will not come in contact with me all at once.
Venice, Sept. 28, 1786.
A few words on my journey hither from Padua. The passage on the Brenta, in the public vessel, and in good company, is highly agreeable. The banks are ornamented with gardens and villas; little hamlets come down to the water's edge; and the animated highroad may be seen here and there. As the descent of the river is by means of locks, there is often a little pause, which may be employed in looking about the country, and in tasting the fruits, which are offered in great abundance. You then enter your vessel again, and move on through a world which is itself in motion, and full of life and fertility.
To so many changing forms and images a phenome-
