VENICE, _2d December_ (1876).
I have been very dismal lately. I hope the next captain of St.
George's Company will be a merrier one and happier, in being of use. I
am inherently selfish, and don't enjoy being of use. And here I've no
Susies nor Kathleens nor Diddies, and I'm only doing lots of good, and
I'm very miserable. I've been going late to bed too. I picked myself
up last night and went to bed at nine, and feel cheerful enough to
ask Susie how she does, and send her love from St. Mark's doves.
They're really tiresome now, among one's feet in St. Mark's Place, and
I don't know what it will come to. In old times, when there were not
so many idlers about, the doves were used to brisk walkers, and moved
away a foot or two in front of one; but now everybody lounges, or
stands talking about the Government, and the doves won't stir till one
just touches them; and I who walk fast[19] am always expecting to tread
on them, and it's a nuisance.
If I only had time I would fain make friends with the sea-gulls, who
would be quite like angels if they would only stop on one's balcony.
If there were the least bit of truth in Darwinism, Venice would have
had her own born sea-gulls by this time building their nests at her
thresholds.
[Footnote 19: See "Fors Clavigera", Letter LXXXII.]
* * * * *
VENICE, _11th December_ (1876).
My mouth's watering so for that Thwaite currant jelly, you can't
think. I haven't had the least taste of anything of the sort this
three months. These wretches of Venetians live on cigars and garlic,
and have no taste in their mouths for anything that God makes nice.
The little drawing (returned) is nice in color and feeling, but, which
surprises me, not at all intelligent in line. It is not weakness of
hand but fault of perspective instinct, which spoils so many otherwise
good botanical drawings.
Bright morning. Sickle moon just hiding in a red cloud, and the
morning stars just vanished in light. But we've had nearly three weeks
of dark weather, so we mustn't think it poor Coniston's fault--though
Coniston _has_ faults.
* * * * *