A person accustomed to the rides, the walks, the activity of ordinary towns, soon grows tired of the confinement of Venice, and of the dull, indolent, see-saw motion of Gondolas. He longs to expatiate in fields, and to range at large through the streets, without the encumbrance of a boat and a retinue of Gondolieri. We therefore left Venice on the sixth of March, without much regret, and embarking at the inn door, proceed towards Fusina. As we rowed over the Lagune, we prevailed upon our Gondolieri to sing, according to an ancient custom, mentioned, I think, by Addison, some stanzas of Tasso; but however beautiful the poetry might be, we thought the tune and execution no ways superior to that of a common ballad-singer in the streets of London. This classical mode of singing verses alternately, the remains of the ancient pastoral so long preserved in Italy, has been much on the decline in Venice since the French invasion, which has damped the ardor of the people, and almost extinguished their natural mirth and vivacity.