as whose every
wave throbs with a deathless memory, to the Grecian Islands and the
Levant. Those were golden days and balmy nights! In and out of harbour
all the time--old friends everywhere--sleeping in some cool temple or
ruined cistern during the heat of the day--feasting and song after
sundown, under great stars set in a velvet sky! Thence we turned and
coasted up the Adriatic, its shores swimming in an atmosphere of
amber, rose, and aquamarine; we lay in wide landlocked harbours, we
roamed through ancient and noble cities, until at last one morning, as
the sun rose royally behind us, we rode into Venice down a path of
gold. O, Venice is a fine city, wherein a rat can wander at his ease
and take his pleasure! Or, when weary of wandering, can sit at the
edge of the Grand Canal at night, feasting with his friends, when the
air is full of music and the sky full of stars, and the lights flash
and shimmer on the polished steel prows of the swaying gondolas,
packed so that you could walk across the canal on them from side to
side! And then the food--do you like shell-fish? Well, well, we won't
linger over that now."

He was silent for a time; and the Water Rat, silent too and enthralled,
floated on dream-canals and heard a phantom song pealing high between
vaporous grey wave-lapped walls.

"Southwards we sailed again at last," continued the Sea Rat, "coasting
down the Italian shore, till finally we made Palermo, and there I
quitted for a long, happy spell on shore. I never stick too long to
one ship; one gets narrow-minded and prejudiced. Besides, Sicily is
one of my happy hunting-grounds. I know everybody there, and their
ways just suit me. I spent many jolly weeks in the island, staying
with friends upcountry. When I grew restless again I took advantage of
a ship that was trading to Sardinia and Corsica; and very glad I was
to feel the fresh breeze and the sea-spray in my face once more."

"But isn't it very hot and stuffy, down in the--hold, I think you call
it?" asked the Water Rat.

The seafarer looked at him with the suspicion of a wink. "I'm an old
hand," he remarked with much simplicity. "The captain's cabin's good
enough for me."

"It's a hard life, by all accounts," murmured the Rat, sunk in deep
thought.

"For the crew it is," replied the seafarer gravely, again with the
ghost of a wink.

"From Corsica," he went on, "I made use of a ship that was taking
wine to the mainland. We made Alassio in the eve