The Pioche weekly record. [volume] (Pioche, Nev.) 1877-1900, 1889-06-01
BYRON AT VENICE.
Interesting "reminiscences of the Autho

The scene Is Venice, the time the fore
noon Of an early autumn day IN 1877, and
the light sea-fog which has drifted in from
the lagoons lies gently on the oily swir.s Of
the canals, and throws a golden vail over
the carven fronts Of the marble palaces,
which line the sides of the Grand canal.
Under tho influence Of the mist, permeated
by the rays Of the morning sun, which had
risen in a cloudless sky, Venice seemed
like to that tabled golden city Of the lucas,
the lode star which drew many brave
gentleman to ultimate death and destruc-
ton. Carelessly reclining on pile of
cushions in large, well-appointed gondola,
which was gliding quickly down tho Grand
canal, was young man of singular ap-
pearanc0. -. sr-Sss .. 49, s~~1A
Sitting opposite to him, writes Horace
Townsend In Once Week, was plump,
dapper little man, commonplace in feature,
but dressed in the height of the prevalent
fashion. He sat stifiy in his seat, occa-
sionally gancing at his companion as
though longing for him TO speak, and yet
not daring himself to begin the converse
ton. .~"~~sNa.As. .~1pNss~~~~.
Atlength, when the gondola had left the
canal, and was cleaving the blue waters Of
the lagoon in its path toward the Lido, a
low, long island which, tho sun having by
this time dispersed the morning mist, was
visible at no great distance.
, Mr.. Moore, for this was his name, could
not longer restrain himself and burst into
rhapsody over the beauty of the scene
His efforts to arouse his companion were
not wildly successful, Lord Byron-for he
it was whom tho minor poet addressed
merely turning over with an ungracious
movement and snarling out: "Don't be "a
fool, Tommy. Keep your poetry for WON
ems albums, and talk common sense, il YOU
can" a. ~
80 far from offending the little man, this
snub had the effect Lord Byron desired,
and during the remainder Of the voyage
across the lagoon Mr.. Moore chatted away
to his noble companion, displaying not lit
tie shrewdness and wit in his chatter,
which dealt principally with the current
London scandals Of the day. ~e-.sw~.
When the Lido was reached and the two
men had landed they found awaiting them
on the strip Of sandy beach couple OF thor
oughbred Arabian horses, III charge Of an
Italian groom.
twas in fact for his daily ride that Byron
visited this spot for here he kept his small
Sue NSAA-oSiSNVCA otdUlC VI oduulO-uOTScS.
For the first time that day, when he
caught sight of the beautiful animals snuff-
ing in tho sea-brcezes through their deli
cate nostrlls, his face softened, and he ca
ressed their velvety muzzles with all the
tenderness OF lover smoothing his mis-
tress' hair. 49,
"Aren't they beauties, Tommy" he said.
They have the endurance OF steel, and the
speed Of thought in their limbs. Which,
by the way" he added, laughing, '.would
make good line in poem, would it mott"
Soon the two friends were mounted and
galloping along the hard sands, Byron a
trife ahead Of Moore. who seemed to have
not little difficulty in the management Of
his stecd. Suddenly Byron heard q cry Of
alarm, and the next instant the little Irish
mans horse shot past, with the rider cling
ing for dear life to his neck. The horse had
taken the bit in his teeth and had fairly run
away. The sight seemed to tickle Byron
immensely, and he foil into fit oflaughter
40 immoderate that ne with difficulty kept
control Of his own steed. Finally he gave
chase to his friend, who was now mere
speck In tho distance, and in the course of
twenty minutes hard ride had come
abreast OF him. The runaway was soon Sc
cured, for he recognized his masters voice,
but poor little Moore was almost dead from
fright and the violent shaking he had un.
dergone
Some hours later Byron and Moore were
sitting in a large room in the Palazzo Mo
cenigo, while on the table before them lay
the remains OF frugal meal.
"a few grapes and O. little claret and wa
ter are all care for, Byr0.. had said, wher
they returned from their trip to the Lido
somewhat to the disgust Of Moore, who
still sore from his jolting, was yet not a lit
tie hungry, and who would have prenrrec
something more substantial.
"Now, Tom," said Byron, when the Bar
needle feast was over, ~ am going to leave
you to your own devices. have an ides
and can not rest until have it on paper
AA0 10 '''s Jus 'U0" -. ~
1t was midnight, and in an upper room O.
the Palazzo Byron sat before table almos
covered with sheets Of paper, scrawled owe
in hand which it would have puzzled al
Egyptian hieroglyphist to decipher. By hi
side was tall Venetian glass half lille,
with drink which plebeian nostril woul,
have diagnosed as humble gin-and-water
ind as he rapidly wrote the poet solacet
himself with sips of this beverage. A
length the task was completed. the scratch
ing sound of the pen ceased. the scattere,
sheets were hastily shuffled together, an
holding them in his hand, Lord Byron hast
ened with scarcely perceptible limp out 0
the room and down the broad marble stair
case to the room in which no left his littl
friend. He found Moore sitting before
desk, an open book, evidently diary, int
which he had been transcribing the notes O
the day, before him, and he himself fas
asleep. -.
"Wake up, Tommy" cried Byron, in q
excited manner. awake up. Iswant t
read something to you." and as the littl