Evening journal., 1888-08-30
A DAY IN VENICE.
A TRAVELLERS GLIMPSE OF ITS
DREAMY AND lDYLLlC LIFE.

A Visit to st. Marks Church-Drifting in
Gondola Down the Grand CanaI-A
Moonlight Scene - Music, Dark Eyed
AIaidens and Flowers.
I am soon down stairs for simple break
Ease of coffee, rolls and omelet, and out on
my way to the Piazza. As l pass over the
Ponte della Paglia, the gondolers are clean
ing their boats and polishing tho brass
mountings aud iron prows till they glsten in
the sun like refined gold and silver. In the
Piazza all is life, and yet that dreamy sort Of
life make Venice so idyllic; the shops are all
open, and the cafes serving to natives and
tourists the morning meal. The windows in
the arcade fash out their brilliant setting Of
iewelry, gems, lovely Venetian glass, rare
curos and stuifs from the east like a price
less girdle around this matchless square of
San Marco.
OF course my first dirty and pleasure, as it
is my monday and closing one, is to enter
st. Mnrk's church; to wander about within
the aisles and arches; TO sit for an hour in
some secluded corner, and contemplate its
marvellous architecture of piers, of vaults, of
domes; its almost inconceivable riches Of
alabaster, of marbles, Of porphyry, bronzes,
gold, silver, statuary and mosaics, to drink
it all in, and fill the soul with calm and salts
flying delight, and to return again and again
and again day by day to the same feast,
moro like dream than a reality.
From the Piazetta at the Molo a gondola
takes me along the grand canal to visit tho
manufactures Of mosaics, glass, furniture
and delightful Venetian iron work. Noon
time comes all too soon, and so leaving my
gondoler at the Rialto, with the admonition
TO be at the Molo at o'clock, l pass down
through the Merceria and make my way on
50 the Piazza, stopping at one Of the little
shops in q side calle to get horn Of corn for
the pigeons; others are before me, for the
bell on tho Tore DELI Orologio has struck the
noon hour, and around the square many are
engaged in the same charming occupation. /
stop beside n young country woman within
one Of the arches, who has a score of these
beautiful birds on her person, one, two, three,
on top Of each other, oil pushing, pecking
and cooling for the bright, golden grain which
she holds in her dainty outstretched hands,
and the happy smile on her fair face attests
10 the pure enjoyment she is having
A group Of little ones, sitting on the pave
meat, around the base of one of the bronze
pedestals to the nAgstaffs. with the birds all
about them, in their laps, on their hands, is
another pretty sight, till some one on the
other side Of the piazza COOS to the birda
The pigeons simultaneously, from all direc-
tions. iass and go swooping and swirring
down upon 1t en- masse as it falls to the pave
ment.
After lunch, or deieuner, visits to the
ducsl palace, the churches anil academia fills
up the time TIL p M, when return to St
Marks to listen 10 the chanting of the choir
And Whit chorus it is. Never before have
l heard such sacred music; the strong, clear
voices OF the young mingle with the deep
tremor Of the aged fathers; the grandly
toned organ peals forth its stirring ac-
compartment in delightful harmony /
rest upon the marble seat within the
shadow Of the south aisle, and the music
seems to come from far away; il swells up
among the arches and domes and comes
down in mellowed and subdued reflections,
and dies away in a gentle and lingering echo
which seems to love and caress the very air
it pulsates.
Leaving st. Marks, l find my gondolier
punctual at the appointed time, and we start
out for our daily drift up the Grand canal as
! far as the station and back again, which oc-
cupies two hours, or till dinner time. / call
| it drifting for that comes nearest to express
ing the silent, almost motionless gliding Of
/ this most fascinating OF conveyances. The
| gondolier uses his oar, it is true, but the ac-
ton is so graceful, the exertion apparently
so easy, the progress so dreamy and slow
that it seems to be simply drifting, as if car.
ried along by some unseen current. Never
before have l known what loafng, par ex-
| cellence, ideal restroom all physical and
mental activity-meant; the cushions are
soft as down, my gondolier a most entertain.
ing fellow, my cigarette the finest Alexan-
dria, the afternoon simply perfect, the Grand
canal a wonderland, all quiet and still, with
not a sound save the distant warning cry Of
some gondolier at the entrance Of sids
canal; and as / lie buck and throw aside my
hat and let the refreshing breeze play
through my hair, am content.
Dinner being over, / once more direct my
steps to the Piazza. The lamps are all aglow
and, il possible, tho square is more enchant
ing by night than by day Standing Just &c
the right Of the archway opening to the
Merceria, one gets the finest view OF the
scene. The moon is midway up the eastern
sky, Just above St Marks, her mellow light
dimming the lamps Of the Piazza; the males
tic Campanile is outlined in sharp silhouette
its angel crowned spire seeming TO reach NJ
and lose itself amid the shining stars; il
casts full dark shadow the full length o.
the Piazza in strong contrast TO the white
ness Of the moon lit pavement
The shops are all ablaze; diamonds, sap
phires, rubies, emeralds, pearls, corals, golC
and Genoese work flash back the fire from
thousand lights. The Arcade is full OF surg
ing humanity; the tables at the entrances t,
the cafes and out on the pavement ara sur
rounded by alRlost every nationality, slipping
coffee and granita. The band stationed II
the center Of the square gives to the scenl
the added charm Of fine music. Dark eye
Venetian maidens smile at one through
maze OF soft black lace, mysteriously wounC
about their heads, half coucealing, half re
vealing their beautiful faces. Flower girl
laden with baskets or trays Of exotics I'm,
ready salos, for the custom is universal; ant
Rosa, the fairest Of them ALL 30 deity an,
coquettishly fixes boutonniere in you
lapel that one hasn't the heart TO refuse tn
few sous anyway.
What a scenei One never TO be forgotten
and as / write, the memory Of it makes th
time seem a thousand years till / am fortu
nate enough to be once more in Venice
Well might Jacopo Foscari beg of his i'm
placable judges to allow him to return to di
in Venicel-Cor. Boston Transcript.