icking me. Dear, good, darling Cham!
I never _will_ go away again without Cham."

Champion licked Rudy's face as he and the boy rolled over on the rug
together, and blinked at both the children as if he understood and quite
approved of Hetty's good resolution.

THE LITTLE SHIPS OF THE WATER STREETS.

BY JAMES B. MARSHALL.

If the jolly uncle of certain Venetian girls and boys comes home from
China, and says, "Hurra, children! let's go take a ride, and have a good
time," they don't imagine it will be in an open carriage behind
swift-footed horses.

[Illustration: A GONDOLA ON THE GRAND CANAL.]

They would think of a beautiful little ship, about thirty feet long,
four or five wide, and as light as cork, called a gondola, which means
"little ship." It would be painted black, like every other gondola, and
the prow would be ornamented with a high halberd-shaped steel piece,
burnished to a dazzling glitter. This steel prow would act as a
counter-balance to their rower, who would stand on the after-end, and
row with his face in the direction they wished to be taken. The rowlock
would be simply a notched stick, and he would row with one long oar,
pushing swiftly along.

He would row so gracefully and easily that you might think you could
quickly become a good gondolier if you tried. You would change your
mind, however, after the laughable experience of rowing yourself
overboard several times, and admit that rowing a gondola requires no
small skill.

It was the people called the Veneti who, more than a thousand years ago,
settled Venice, and invented these little ships. The fifteen thousand
houses of Venice are built on a cluster of islands, over one hundred in
number, and divided by nearly one hundred and fifty canals, or water
streets. However, one may visit any part of the city without the aid of
a gondola, as the islands are joined together by three hundred and
seventy-eight bridges, and between the houses lead narrow crooked
passages, many not wider than the width of one's outspread arms.

The canals are salt, and offer at high tide fine salt-water bathing. As
most of the houses rise immediately from the water, it is not an
uncommon sight, at certain hours, to see a gentleman or his children
walk down his front-door steps arrayed for bathing, and take a "header"
from the lower step. That sounds very funny, but to the Venetians such
proceedings are quite a matter of course.

In the lagoon around the city