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bunting and sparkling with tiny lamps. The statue of the King was still enveloped in its white covering like a day- light ghost ; and along the riva the glassy trees ready to be lighted at night had an odd out of place appearance. But there was a gay stream of people walking, and quite as much bustle on the water with flashing gondolas and gay barges getting ready to join in the aquatic procession. Ahead, the Campanile shot right up into the blue sky, the banners of St. Mark's flew in front of that dazzling church. On the right, by the Custom House, a liftle fleet of coast- ers rested at anchor, but with their sails still more or less set, brown and yellow, and here and there decorated with strange devices. The Church of Santa Maria della Salute slept on the water, in spite of its frame work of Vauxhall lamps, which at night were to mark its beautiful architectu- ral lines against the starry sky. Flags were flying every- where. From the windows of the gorgeous palaces hung rich brocades and Oriental draperies, tapestried stones of ancient days. In the balconies were pretty women, and below were picturesque men. Crowds were hurrying from all sorts of by-streets, and boats working their way from all kinds of mysterious canals.
It was a wonderful scene. It dazed Philip. He had. never beheld anything so impressive in its picturesque- ness. All his memories of Russia, and his recollections of English out-door displays, found nothing to compare with this informal kind of public demonstration, unregu- lated alike as regards the people as it was in regard to the decorations of the palaces, the varied colors of the flying boats, and without a single obtrusive hint of a mas- ter hand in the preparations for the illuminations at night. Nothing seemed to have been designed, and yet every- thing was perfect in arrangement and color, and so over- whelming was the beauty of the architectural avenue through which they were making their way, so superb the
