Firing is very dear at Venice, and the apartments are not well contrived for warmth. Indeed, as far as I can see, no Venetian ever thinks of making his room warm; if his apparatus of mats, foot-bags, great coats, and caps, are not sufficient, he either makes a little fire, just to warm himself, or goes to the coffee-house, where however, the warmth is derived from the crowds who frequent them, and not from the fires. The ladies are better off, as they have little chafing-dishes to put their feet upon, which as they sit, are hidden under their petticoats, and even the beggars in the streets have these conveniences. The theatre, the church, and the coffee-house are the lounging places of the Italian, where he goes neither to see, nor to do any thing; but merely because he has nothing to do. There is seldom any amusement in the coffee-houses, beyond a little languid conversation; three-fourths of the people seem dreaming, and neither eat, drink, nor talk. You may observe a solitary individual come in, and seat himself on the well stuffed cushions, with an air, not of enjoyment, but of mere listlessness, and sit in a sort of stupid contentedness, saying nothing and doing nothing; but it is winter here in the moral and political, as well as in the physical world.