Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1868-05-20
letter of Rev. ilr. Lord.

Ny last was from Milan, after my visit to
Bclaggio and the fair lake Of Como On
Thursday. the 23d. we left for Venice. Our
way was through the fairest portion Of
Northern Italy. We passed by the old
medieval cities of Bergamo. Brescia
Denseuzano-to the right Of which the field
Of Solferino is in full view, and the river
Mincio-Nerona, Nincenza and Padua. On
our left the snow covered peaks Of the Alps
lowered to the sky. Lago di Garda, like a
beautiful mirror, lay at their base, and re-
lected in its peaceful waters their rugged
sides The beautiful plains of Lombardy
were a continual delight to the eye From
tree to tree ran the graceful festoOns of the
vine, and the whole country was full of
delicious arcades and trellised avenues of
grapes. W heat and wine are the products
of Italy. and neither crop interferes with
the other. The closely trimmed trees that
line the fields are covered with the vines,
and the intervals are green with the wheat.
Yet, notwithstanding the immense product
Of wine, | have not seen a drunken person
since left Paris. The beautiful scenery OF
this country is not disgraced by drunkards.
We reached Venice from Milan in seven
hours. at : o'clock in the evening. At Mi
sere we left the mainland, and after crossing
a bridge Of nearly four miles over the la
guncs, we came on shipb0ard at Venice.
On leaving the cars we took gondola for the
Hotel Europe where | am delightfully."- situ-
ated on the Grand Canal.
Venice is one of the few cities in Europe
that has not disappointed my expectations
From my b0yho0d, when | used to read with
marvellous interest the story of her dogcs,
her wars and her braves a; of her annual brI-
dal with the sea Of her tribunals and her
CLrI,cl,s orbcr PiaI+o and +bc Rrid,-o nf
S:La.c - Narl-,, oh,,rah and 80,
;oI i;n.1l ,,,1 p,,aanta,1 -
Ia. ,,,iaces ISM, IN soIid narhIa fro+,, tho
sea She has been to me a sort of fairv citv.
And now I am in Venice have glided
tbrouob the network of her intricate and
walled canaIs have listened to tho ,p,,sic
of her imnrovisatores have wandered
tbrouch the halls of her doocs and the dark
drng,.ons of her prisons have looked
tbronob the crate on tbc ponte Del Sos
niri and stood in the court where SbvIock
inet his .i,,btcoIs a,v,rd IF tbe ,o,Ind ot
flesh. | have listened under the shadow OF
her Campanile to the splendid strains Of her
bands. as they rave us. in the soft evening
the music Of Ernani. Neverbeer and Auber.
have traverscd a score of times her square
and church of St. Mark and though the
nalaces of Venice are crumblinq and the
song of the condolier is hushed. though the
nations have ceased to pour into her lap
the spoils of the world, though she is nc
longer the peasant place Of all festirity, >
= the rerel fthe earth, the naasgue of Haiv, >
still she has realized my dream 1t takes
but little Imagination to repeople the past
and bring back the long file of her deaC
, doges. The vast piles of mingled Greek ant
Arabian architecture, where they dwelt, anc
where they worshiPed the brazen steed
that still glow on the front OF st. Mark E
r. - -. 1c,L:. -
, lctl Centuries ~ hoA Yhieliul HlotOtN, pas
before me once again.