r. Songs and laughter and the
echo of merry voices were heard on every side, and the city seemed one
vast playground, where all the grown-up children as well as the babies
were ready to spend a happy holiday.

The little side-streets of Venice, cut up by canals, seem like a
veritable maze to those who do not know the city, but Carpaccio could
quickly thread his way from bridge to bridge, and by many a short cut
arrive at last at the great central water street of Venice, the Grand
Canal. Here it was easy to find a corner from which he could see the
gay pageant, and enjoy as good a view as any of those great people who
would presently come out upon the balconies of their marble palaces.

The bridge of the Rialto, which throws its white span across the centre
of the canal, was Carpaccio's favourite perch, for from here he could
see the markets and the long row of marble palaces on either side. From
every window hung gay-coloured tapestry, Turkey carpets, silken
draperies, and delicate-tinted stuffs covered with Eastern
embroideries. The market was crowded with a throng of holiday-makers, a
garden of bright colours and from the balconies above richly dressed
ladies looked down, themselves a pageant of beauty, with their
wonderful golden hair and gleaming jewels, while green and crimson
parrots, fastened by golden chains to the marble balustrades, screamed
and flapped their wings, and delighted Carpaccio's keen eyes with their
vivid beauty.

Then the procession of boats swept up the great waterway, and the blaze
of colour made the boy hold his breath in sheer delight. The painted
galleys, the rowers in their quaint dresses-half one colour and half
another--with jaunty feathered caps upon their floating curls, the
nobles and rulers in their crimson robes, the silken curtains of every
hue trailing their golden fringes in the cool green water, as the boats
glided past, all made up a picture which the boy never forgot.

Then when it was all over, Carpaccio would climb down and make his way
back to the master's studio, and with the gay scene ever before his
eyes would try, day after day, to paint every detail just as he had
seen it.

There is another thing which we learn about Carpaccio from his
pictures, and that is, that he must have loved to listen to old legends
and stories of the saints, and that he stored them up in his mind, just
as he treasured the remembrance of the gay processions and the flapping
wings of those c