helmet of Attila, the Hun, and tattered banners captured from many nations. Those brought back by "blind old Dandolo ! The octogenarian chief, Byzantium's conquering foe," had an especial interest. Henry Dandolo was made Doge when he was eighty-five years old, in 1192. He led the attack upon Constantinople, and was the first to rush into the city; thus realizing, said the Venetians, the prophecy of the "Erythræan Sibyl," which ran thus: "A gathering together of the powerful shall be made amidst the waves of the Adriatic, under a blind leader." The model of the Bucentoro (the Bucentaur) is in the Arsenal. When the French captured Venice they made great destruction, and burnt the Bucentaur, which was always kept there. It was only taken out once each year, when the Doge wedded the Adriatic. This ceremony was of great antiquity, and consisted in a grand pageant, while the immense barge, rowed by two hundred oarsmen, carried the Doge beyond the Lido, where he espoused the Adriatic by casting a ring into the waters. The marriage was deemed an assertion of the dominion of the republic over the sea. There was a time when the Arsenal fitted out the greatest fleets in the world. Sixteen thousand men were often occupied within its walls. Dante visited the Arsenal in those days, and he has perpetuated its fame by drawing from it illustrations for his "Inferno." The cauldrons of boiling pitch, the fires beneath them, and the caulking of the enormous ships, are invested by him with a charm it would be deemed impossible to confer upon objects so unpoetic. His genius was like the rays of a Venetian sunset, casting a bright and glorious radiance around every object it touches. A beautiful work of Canova's is there-the monument LAST EVENING IN VENICE. 257 of Angelo Emo, one of the last great men of the republic. He was an admiral in her navy, and commanded in the war with the Barbary powers. As a member of the fearful "Council of Ten," his voice was always raised in pleading for the wretched criminals. Canova refused to receive any compensation for this work, although the Senate insisted upon giving him a pension. As we were incessantly upon the canals, or out on the lagoons, we often heard the gondoliers singing, in a very unmusical tone, it must be confessed. We asked Augustino if they sang now the "Verses of Tasso;" but he replied, “Ah! no, Signora. The songs of Tasso were written for a free people, and we are only slaves!" The Venetians are very fond of calling Tasso their countryman, claiming him as such, because he was educated partly in Venice and partly in Padua. His father was born there, but Torquato's birthplace was Sorrento, near Naples. "entire Our last evening in Venice we devoted to an voyage" around the city; beginning at the Riva dei Schiavoni, passing through the Canale di San Marco, in front of the public gardens, established by the French, (and therefore not a favorite resort of the Venetians;) then up the Canal di Castello, by the castle of San Pietro, on to the manufacturing village of Mestre; then to the Canal Grande, the main artery to the "heart of Venice," the Piazza di San Marco. We directed the cabin of the gondola to be removed, that our eyes might banquet for the last time upon the exquisite view. To no other city in the world can Venice be compared. It is alone and peerless in its beauty. Enthusiasm flames up from the soul at the recollection of those glorious days when the " Ocean Queen was "The Planter of the Lion, which through fire then a tender pity possesses the heart at her downfall and her decay. Reclining upon the luxurious cushions of the gondola, I read aloud to Octavia the thrilling tragedy of "The Two Foscari." Under the influences of the very scenes therein described, it is not wonderful we both felt it had a charm beyond even the usual spell of Byron's poetry. Leaving the busy throng along the Piazetta, we glided under the "Bridge of Sighs," with its dark shadow falling like a funeral drapery over the canal, to the wide Giudecca, where we told the gondoliers "to rest upon their oars," as we floated slowly over the waters. We watched the sun go down over the distant Alps, while from the horizon's verge upward streamed long rays of light, as though they were gorgeous banners in the sky. It really seemed "As day and night contending were, until And darkness came, and with it the illumination above and below the Grand Canal. Long we lingered, gazing upon the scene, as though to stamp for ever on the mind the impressions of that evening in Venice; they cannot pass away, for upon memory they are painted with a pencil of light, and treasured within the heart as a sweet and precious joy. Truly could I exclaim, with my farewell look, among "The happiest moments which were wrought Within the web of my existence, some From thee, fair Venice, have their colors caught! In parting from the "City of the Sea," I feel the certainty in coming years we shall meet again. CHAPTER XXVIII. By the morning train we left Venice, and were therefore compelled to be at the dogana at an early hour. Our good Augustino, who had been constantly attending us during our stay there, accompanied us. The poor gondolier had a warm and kind heart, and was so deeply grateful to us, we could not part with him without regret, earnestly wishing we were enabled to take him to our free country, where his real nobility of nature might be appreciated. Our friends of the Austrian police were still exacting, passing through the routine of our arrival. As an especial favor they permitted us to take away some ancient lace, "Point de Venise," and beads from Murano; but they retained a revolver, which R. had unhappily brought with him from Texas. It required all my diplomatic talent to convince the commanding officer that it was not intended for murderous purposes, or to incite a revolution, but only a usual accompaniment of an American, travelling in his own country, and, through ignorance of Austrian laws, continued here. The officers on guard had never seen before a Colt's Revolver," so they all gathered around it, and sent for one of their comrades, who had been at the world's fair in London, who explained the intricacies of this instrument of death 66 to the delighted crowd. Then an officer was ordered to take it to the governor of Venice, and obtain his decision concerning its destination. In a short time he came back, informing us the governor had commanded it to be placed in the armory, until the American consul should demand it; so we left the unfortunate revolver, and were soon moving slowly over the long viaduct, upon which is laid the railway. At Mestre we looked our last upon Venice. Its columns, spires, and turrets, were glittering in the sunlight, but the scene had not for us the touching charm of the preceding night. There seems a soft, sad sympathy between evening and Venice, for the day of her glory has departed, while the softness of twilight still lingers. At "substantial, sober, learned" Padua, we tarried only to change the cars, and then on to Vicenza and Verona, where we took the diligence, and travelled on by Peschiera, and along the shores of the Lago di Garda to Brescia. As we found there a diligence going up to the "Lake of Idro," we seized the opportunity of visiting those romantic scenes, so sweetly described by Italian poets. It was night when we started, but when morning came, we were delighted with the scenery, and the fertile country, and the pretty little villages. Often and often, by the road-side, we saw a humble shrine, with a Virgin rudely sculptured within it, and peasants kneeling before it. At night there was a lamp frequently placed in a niche, which shone afar off like a star. Our route was one little travelled, and hence at the sound of our approach the people ran from their small cottages to look upon us. They are more healthy and robust than those we met near the foot of the Alps, and the women were very comely, with their hair twisted up in a large knot, and immense pins run through it. The morning was fresh and delightful, and the birds were |