[According to a correspondent of the Times, it is proposed to erect bridges connecting Venice with the mainland.]

One afternoon in the autumn of 1930, when the express from Milan arrived at Venice an Englishman stepped out, handed his luggage ticket to a porter, and said, "Hotel Tiziano."

"Adesso Hotel Moderno, signore," remarked the porter.

"They've changed the name, I suppose. All right. Hotel Moderno, gondola."

"Che cosa, signore?" asked the porter, apparently confused, "gon—, gondo—, non capisco. Hotel Moderno, non È vero?" And he led the way to the outside, where the Englishman perceived a wide, asphalted street. "Ecco lÀ, signore, la stazione sotterranea del Tubo dei Quattro Soldi; ecco qui la tramvia elettrica, e l'omnibus dell' hotel."

"Gondola," repeated the Englishman. The porter stared at him again. Then he shook his head and answered, "Non capisco, signore, non parlo inglese." So the Englishman entered the motor omnibus, started at once, for there were no other travellers, and in a few minutes arrived at the hotel, designed by an American architect and fifteen stories in height. The gorgeous marble and alabaster entrance-hall was entirely deserted.

Having engaged a room, the Englishman asked for a guide. The hall porter, who spoke ten languages fluently and simultaneously, murmured some words into a telephone, and almost immediately a dapper little man presented himself with an obsequious bow.

"I want to go round the principal buildings," said the Englishman. "You speak English, of course."

"Secure, sir," answered the guide, with another bow; "alls the ciceronians speaks her fine language, but her speak I as one English. Lets us go to visit the Grand Central Station of the Tube."

"Oh, no," said the Englishman, "not that sort of thing! I'm not an engineer. I should like to see the Doge's Palace."

"Lo, sir! The Palace is now the Stazione Centrale Elettrica."

"Then it's no good going to see that. I will go to St. Mark's."

"San Marco is shutted, sir. The vibrazione of the elettrical mechanism has done fall the mosaics. The to visit is become too periculous."

"Oh, indeed! Well, we can go up the Grand Canal."

"The Canal Grande, sir, is now the Via Marconi. Is all changed, and covered, as all the olds canals of Venezia, with arches of steel and a street of asfalto. Is fine, fine, È bella, bella, una via maravigliosa"!

"You don't mean to say there isn't a canal left? Where are the gondolas then?"

"An, una gondola! The sir is archeologo. Ebbene! We shalls go to the Museo. There she shall see one gondola, much curious, and old, ah, so old!"

"Not a canal, not a gondola—except in the museum! What is there to see?"

"There is much, sir. There is the Tube of the Four Halfpennies, tutto all' inglese, as at London. He is on the arches of steel below the news streets. There is the bridge from the city to Murano, one span of steel all covered of stone much thin, as the Ponte della Torre, the Bridge of the Tower, at London. Is marvellous, the our bridge! Is one bridge, and not of less not appear to be one bridge, but one castle of the middle age in the middle air. È bellissimo, e anche tutto all' inglese. And then——"

"Stop," cried the Englishman. "Does anybody ever come to your city now? Any artists, for instance?"

"Ah, no, sir! Pittori, scultori, perche? But there are voyagers some time. The month past all the Society of the Engineers of Japan are comed, and the hotels were fulls, and all those sirs were much contenteds and sayed the city was marvellous. She shall go now, sir, to visit the bridge?"

"No," said the Englishman, emphatically, "not I! Let me pay my bill here and your fee, whatever it is, and take me back to the railway station as fast as you can. There are plenty of bridges in London. I am going back there."

At Brussels.—Mrs. Trickleby (pointing to announcement in grocer's window, and spelling it out).

Jambon d' Yorck. What's that mean, Mr. T.?

Mr. T. (who is by way of being a linguist). Why, good Yorkshire preserves, of course. What did you suppose it was—Dundee marmalade?