e now rolled
in fine sand, which has been carefully heated in earthen jars, until
just warm enough to soften the outside of the glass, so that a gentle
friction would rub off the sharp edges. The sand gets into the holes in
the beads, prevents them from closing up during this process, and ere
we can believe it possible, they come forth round, perfect, and
complete. The larger and smaller ones are now separated and sorted by
simply shaking them in different-sized sieves, and any beads that
require an extra amount of polish are thrown into small bags filled with
marl, and vigorously tossed and shaken.

Much more complicated is the manufacture of the _perle di luce_, or
beads of light, which so delight the natives of India and Africa. The
name is taken from the way in which they are prepared, namely, by means
of a jet of intense flame, and great skill and dexterity is required on
the part of the workman, who can display his talent and originality by
ornamenting them with flowers and arabesques. The combined effects of
light and colour are often very beautiful, and seem a fit adornment for
all those eastern and southern nations over whom a halo of fable and
romance is cast.

In the interior of Africa, these _perle di luce_ are frequently used as
payment instead of coin, and the cunning Arab, in whose hands almost the
whole of the trade lies, generally turns to his own profit the delight
that the innocent negresses exhibit at his gay wares.

But contrary to what one might expect, the black, woolly-headed children
of Nature show a strange distaste for _glossy_ beads; so much so indeed,
that the Venetians find it necessary to deaden the natural brilliancy
which all glass obtains when it becomes cold, by grinding it, and thus
softening the otherwise shining surface.

Notwithstanding all this, however, the bead industry of Venice is but a
poorly-paid one; only the most skilful among the hands can manage to
make a decent livelihood. Not very many of the women can earn more than
about 4-1/2d. a day, so that for them all the fast-days decreed by their
Church are quite superfluous; _their_ fasts last from Ash Wednesday to
Ash Wednesday. Even polenta, that very frugal Italian national dish, is
for them only a Sunday's treat; the rest of the week nature provides
them with turnips and other roots, great piles of which, cooked on an
open hearth, greet us in all the streets of Venice, where they are
eagerly devoured by the hungry cro