The Camden chronicle. (Camden, Tenn.) 1890-current, 1902-01-31


but my strange experience in Venice.
In the winter season OF 1894 changed
my opinion on the subject once aud
for all
! had at that time a business COM
mission in the larger towns of Italy,
and from Verona was going on to
Venice In my compartment was
young Italian-a rather nasty looking
fellow, clad in a curious green travel
ing cloak We did not speak to one
another and as II was very cold, l
curled myself up In my corner and
went to sleep. wishing inwardly that
/ had had the forethought to bring a
nice warm overcoat with me like that
of my companion.
When ! awoke we we're apparently
nearing Venice, and | was the only
occupant of the carriage. Where the
Italian had got out l did not know,
but curlously enough, he had left
his cloak behind him. It was q new
garment, warmly lined. and l slipped
It over my shoulders, intending to
hand it over to the officials at Venice.
Ten minutes later the train steamed
into the station, and | tumbled out to
look after my luggage. There were a
good many people in the train, and in
my eagerness / quite forgot that was
wearing a cloak which did not belong
to me, and which ought to hand over
forthwith to the lost property Office
Outside the station there were the
usual crowds of persuasive gondoliers
plying for hire, and the whole scene
was one of hustle and confusion. It
was now late at night, and the lights
of the station, reflected in the inky
black water, had a weirdly pictur-
esque effect. Presently a gondolier
came toward me, gave me a searching
glance which took me in from head
TO foot, and then inquired, with a
'courtly bow, If he might have the
honor Of taking the signor to his
hotel. / signified my assent, and in
"A few moments my few belongings
and myself were more or less snugly
slowed away. With a few strokes
my gondolier drew clear of the crowd
at the station, and we were presently
gliding down the broad bosom of the
Grand Canal.
The night was cold, and there was
"A kind Of damp freshness in the bit
ing wind which sighed across the la
COON. Instinctively l drew my cloak
closely round me, and then realibzed
with a jerk that had quite forgotten
to deliver it to the railway officials.
How forgetful of me-" l thought.
''But, never mind! I will send a mes
senger from the hotel with it to-
morrow morning"
The ancient palazzo, now turned in
to plebeian hotel, at which
had engaged rooms, was
situated on side canal some
little distance from the Grand
Canal, and we were presently thread
ing maze of narrow waterways,
Lit only by twinkling lamps which
threw struggling lines of light across
the inky water. Everything was alb
solutely quiet, for Venice is indeed
a silent city when night falls on the
scene. Occasionally, but very rarely,
a gondola would cross our path, and
every now and then there came the
monotonous chant of my gondolier, as
we neared a point where the canal
branched off. "Sa sta!" he would
chant, as we turned to the right; "sa
premi!" as we dived into some devious
waterway to the left; while if we were
keeping straight on, 'lungo chi"
rolled across the water from his lips.
1t seemed to me that we were
taking rather long time to reach the
hotel, but as l not been in Venice be-
fore, did not like to say anything.
Presently, however, the gondola ran
alongside a sort of decayed stone
quay, above which lowered a closely
shattered house, evidently of con-
siderable antiquity.
Surely this is not the Hotel -"
/ cried, in surprise; lit looks more
like a dungeon"
The gondolier bowed low. cit is
not, signor" he said; the hotel is
down the passage on the left, and |
will do myself the pleasure Of con
Quoting your excellency thither"
He stepped off the gondola, tossed
a loop of rope over a stone projec
ton, and led me toward a narrow pas.
sage, which l had not noticed AT
the far end of this alley I saw a
twinkling oil lamp, which my guide
assured me was the light of the Hotel
-. Inwardly I cursed the friendly
Italian merchant at Verona who had
recommended me to such q rnieera hlc