WE HEAR OF THE MURDER OF LORD FREDERICK CAVENDISH AND MR. BURKE—A GRAND SERENADE ON THE GRAND CANAL—MY JOURNEY FROM VENICE TO ENGLAND.

Every evening during our stay in Venice, just about the time we finished dining in the evening, a gondola full of serenaders would take up their position just beneath our open window, and sing some of their charming Italian ballads in a very pleasing style, undisturbed by the rattling of cabs and omnibuses. Indeed, it seemed very strange, as we wandered about this town of waterways, spanned by about 360 bridges, never to see a vehicle or living thing except human beings. Of course, the quietude that reigned all round was very favourable to the serenaders. One very favourite song, both with the serenaders and visitors, was called “Santa Lucia.” This, I think, we had every night, for, if they left[332] this out of their programme, someone at the hotel would be certain to ask for it. Venice, as all the world knows, is noted for its glass manufactories. To one of these, owned by Dr. Salviati, my friend and I wended our steps. We were much interested on going over the place, and much burdened on coming out of it, as each of us emerged with an armful of purchases. It was fortunate for me that my stay was of short duration, as each time I returned to my hotel after a stroll, I generally did so with an armful of purchases of some description or other.

Dr. Kilkelly, whose residence was in Dublin, had arranged with me that we should return to England by a different route to that by which I had come by. We intended to travel through the Brenner Pass to Munich, then to Bingen on the Rhine, down that river to Cologne, and on to England, but as we were to have a grand serenade on the Grand Canal at night, we postponed the journey until the morrow. Soon after this, whilst walking along, a large poster of the Standard newspaper attracted our attention, announcing “The Murder of Lord Frederick Cavendish.” A paper was soon procured, and there we read the account of his murder and that of Mr. Burke’s, dastardly deeds that all respectable Irishmen blush to think of, and which excited the indignation of my friend to boiling-point. This at once[333] altered his plans entirely. Said he, “I must start home to-morrow. As head of the family I must get to Dublin at once; perhaps the place will be under martial law.” I then relinquished the idea of taking our route, not caring to go by myself, and resolved to spend another day or so in Venice, returning via Turin.

In the evening the doctor, Mrs. and Miss P., and myself made our way to the water-side, with the intention of engaging a gondola to witness this grand aquatic fête. How we should have got on with the gondolier I don’t know, as he could only speak his own language; but, fortunately, I knew just sufficient Italian to pull us out of the difficulty. In whatever country I remain a few days, my first business is to know the value of the coins and be able to count in the language of the country. This I have always found extremely useful, particularly in Turkey, where the coinage is very confusing to a stranger. A piaster is worth about 2d. There they have silver, copper, metallic, and paper piasters; and unless one knows all about the rate of exchanging a Medjidie, the trusting individual may possibly and probably be the victim of misplaced confidence.

Having secured our gondola, we pulled up opposite Danielli’s Hotel, a little way above the Doge’s[334] Palace. Here we found a large floating stage, occupied by those who were to take part in the serenade. It was profusely and very prettily decorated with festoons of flowers and evergreens, among which were interlaced a vast number of variegated lamps (the centre piece forming quite a tree of these little lamps). Under this stood the conductor, whilst around him was the orchestra and singers. This great stage started from opposite Danielli’s Hotel, drawn by two boats. Following it were hundreds of gondolas jostling one another on the Grand Canal, each one trying to get as near as possible to the stage. Those on shore took as much interest in the proceedings as those on the canals, for at every stoppage—and these occurred very frequently—a performance took place. Opposite each stoppage there was a grand pyrotechnic display by those on shore. Our first halt was opposite the Palace of the Doges and the Piazetta of St. Mark, where numberless Roman candles, Bengal lights, rockets, &c., were let off, brilliantly illuminating the far-famed old Palace, Piazza, Campanile, St. Mark’s, and all the surroundings, and so on past the hotels (once gorgeo............