Viewing page 37 of 59

This transcription has been completed. Contact us with corrections.

We barely made our steamer to Arbe next morning at six, still we did and after five hours sail in a mixed company of Austrian tourists we reached Arbe. Oscar Grete and Fritzl were lined up on the dock. And now about Oscars trouble: it is a very serious swelling of the glands about the neck and collarbone, in consequence of which he is generally miserable; poor sleep, equally poor apetite, occassional fever are his symptoms. Doctor tells Grete the matter requires instant and careful treatment and for that reason he went to Arbe. In my opinion, his ailment is identical with my own experience of a few years ago. His occupation confines him to one room, bad air and mental strain, he smoked a lot and I hammered away at him what I could to have him stop it. He promised to heed my advise. I am sure he will improve here and he intends not to return till he feels decidedly better. 

He certainly picked out a charming and most curious place for his recreation: An old Venetian town of about 15000 inhabitants in the 13th and 14th century, probably built upon Roman ruins has now but 800 souls within its fallen walls. Proud palazzi's without roofs, heaps of stone with wonderful carvings abound. In the pavement of its narrow streets, never trodden by any horse, you may find old inscription tablets, architectural fragments - any number. There are 8 churches to the 800 inhabitants, the largest dating back to the 12th century.