Of an impatient man: "He feeds the hen with one hand and with the other
he looks for her eggs."

I have not printed these exactly as they appear in the little pamphlet,
because one has only to turn one page to realize that what the S.
Lazzaro press most needs is a proof-reader.

I said at the beginning of this book that the perfect way to approach
Venice for the first time is from Chioggia. But that is not too easy.
What, however, is quite easy is to visit Chioggia from Venice and then,
returning, catch some of the beauty--without, however, all the surprise
and wonder--of that approach.

Steamers leave the Riva, opposite Danieli's, every two hours. They take
their easy way up the lagoon towards the Lido for a little while, and
then turn off to the right, always keeping in the enclosed channel, for
eighteen miles. I took the two o'clock boat on a hot day and am not
ashamed to confess that upon the outward voyage I converted it (as
indeed did almost everybody else) into a dormitory. But Chioggia
awakened me, and upon the voyage back I missed, I think, nothing.

Choggia is amphibious. Parallel with its broad main street, with an
arcade and cafés under awnings on one side, and in the roadway such
weird and unfamiliar objects as vehicles drawn by horses, and even
motor-cars noisy and fussy, is a long canal packed with orange-sailed
fishing boats and crossed by many little bridges and one superb broad
white one. All the men fish; all the women and children sit in the
little side streets, making lace, knitting, and stringing beads. Beside
this canal the dirt is abnormal, but it carries with it the usual
alleviation of extreme picturesqueness, so that Chioggia is always