the base of the columns of the Piazzetta, and airily invites the Inglesi
to tours of the Grand Canal, is of quite a different type from the
weather-beaten _barcaiuolo_, who croaks _"Barca!"_ at the
promenaders on the Zattere. But all, as I say, are simple and harmless
enough, and however loudly they quarrel among themselves, they never pass
from the defamation of their female relatives to blows. As for the game of
knives, as it is said to be played at Naples, and as About describes it at
Rome, I doubt if it is much known to the populace of Venice. Only the
doctors let blood there--though from their lancets it flows pretty freely
and constantly.

It is true that the gondolier loves best of everything a clamorous
quarrel, carried on with the canal between him and his antagonist; but
next to this, he loves to spend his leisure at the ferry in talking of
eating and of money, and he does not differ from many of his fellow-
citizens in choice of topics. I have seldom caught a casual expression
from passers in the streets of Venice which did not relate in some way to
gold Napoleons, zwanzigers, florins, or soldi, or else to wine and
polenta. I note this trait in the Venetians, which Goldoni observed in the
Milanese a hundred years ago, and which I incline to believe is common to
all Italians. The gondoliers talk a great deal in figure and hyperbole,
and their jocose chaff is quite inscrutable even to some classes of
Venetians. With foreigners, to whom the silence and easy progress of the
gondola gives them the opportunity to talk, they are fond of using a word
or two of French. They are quick at repartee, and have a clever answer
ready for most occasions. I was one day bargaining for a boat to the Lido,
whither I refused to be taken in a shabby gondola, or at a rate higher
than seventy-five soldi for the trip. At last the patience of the
gondoliers was exhausted, and one of them called out, "Somebody fetch the
Bucintoro, and take this gentleman to the Lido for seventy-five soldi!"