Savannah morning news. [volume] (Savannah) 1868-1887, 1885-07-13
IN THE PIAZZA OF ST. MARK.
n Fair Young English Lady and the
PigeOns-The Great Bell.

A Fair Young English Lady and the
PigeOns-The Great Bell.
The piazza of st. Mark, as all men and
women know, is the place where all
Venice congregates, says bright nomad
In his letter to the Pittsburg Dispatch.
Even the oldest residents drop III upon
the piazza TO see the pigeons and the two
bronze giants strike the hours on the big
bell up on the bell tower, and the process
sion Of nOndescripts file out of a door and
around balcony and in at another door,
and IN the evenings TO drink a cup of
coffee and smoke a cigarette or two. AS
for the pigeons, they come in hundreds, it
may be thousands, TO be fed by those who
are always ready to feed them, strangers
and natives. AT the booths in the VII
entity of the square there are al
WAYS little packages of grain and
| crumbs for sale, and a thirty
ing business is done in those commodi-
ties. Men, women and children, especially
strangers, buy and feed to the birds; and
the fat, feathered beauties will even
ahght upon the hands and arms of their
patrons in their eagerness for something
TO eat. They appear to have strange and
| sudden affections and antipathies, how
ever. 1t is rare, indeed. that they will
| allght upon mans hand, and they can
Ni5blhS ulnu hb Il 2ldUc6 a cruel, uGCepIiN6
boy, who is likely to feed and then to
brighten them. They have special liking
for little girls, and dc not often refuse 10
sit upon their hands and eat. Their dis
elimination among women is remarkable
and problematic. Often from group of
three or four they will sit upon the hands
of one or two and reject all advances of
the others.
For several days in succession | have
surely be very attractive to her own kind,
woo these pigeons in vain. The birds would
crowd one another in the most impolite
way to get at the corn in the hands of her
sister and mother, but fought shy of hers,
though they were very pretty hands, which
even bird might have been glad to touch.
On the first day she said it must be her
bright ribbons of which the pigeons were
afraid. On the second she began to doubt
herself. She had dressed in a gray cos
tune and wore no gay colors. On the
third day she coaXed and cOaXed in vain
as before.
"Why will they not comer' she ex-
claimed with really pathetic tremor in
her voice.
"rry once MORE" said her father, who
evidently sympathized with her keenly.
She did try again, but with no success,
and there was flush of genuine shame in
"There must be something awfully bad
in my face which the birds can see, else
they would come to me,'' and she actually
burst into tears as she walked hurriedly
away.
Another incident which attracted my
attention was that of wan little beggar
eagerly beseechlng persons who were
feeding the flock to give him some corn
that he might coax the pigeons to his
starved himself, but when he had received
what he sought he would watch with the
utmost delight the birds stufing their
craws while his own stomach must have
been full of nothing but emptiness. Vene-
tian beggars may starve; Venice's 10000
paupers may never have satisfactory
meal, but the pigeons of st. Marks will
be fed fat through the ages.
One need not watch his timepiece to keep
trace of the hours in the square of ST..
Marks. Ten minutes before the striking
of each hour a little knot of men, women
and children will be seen standing with
faces upturned to the bronze figures and
the big bell on the bell tower. They know
that there will not be a motion of those
Vulcans to sway their monster hammers
until the hour fully arrives, but they
stand there and watch the automatic.
nevertheless. And the number of
watchers constantly increases. Visit
Ors who have been tracing the grOtesque
frescoes in the naves and domes of
St. Marks come forth to see
the Vulcans strike. Others, who have
been admring the immense Titans and
VerOneses on the walls of the DOges' pal
ace. join the thrOng. Natives come from
the little shops on every hand. They have
seen the hammers swing, and every ges-
ture of the absurd procession which fits
around the balcony each hour of the day
ever since they grew to be able to walk,
but they seem to witness the scene with
yet unflagging interest. The spectators
number hundreds just before the
hour is struck on neighboring
bell. Then the Vulcan nearest
the square on the clock tower slowly
swings his big hammer and tolls the hour.
A minute of intense silence intervenes
and then the Vulcan on the other side re-
peats the solemn warning that another
fraction of time has gone into the ever
frightening eternity of the past; and, as
he strikes, the droll procession appears
and disappears. Then the crowd dis
perses just as the pigeons do when some
dispenser Of corn has exhausted his
stock.
nTrEyT \ xvErUTNT EnDmu DnTTNA