received, that as a whole, and apart from its antiquity and
interesting historical associations, and the exquisite mosaics, so rich
in colouring and design, I was rather disappointed in St. Mark's.
Certainly the exterior is beyond praise in its beautiful curving
outlines; but the interior is so exceedingly dark and heavy, that the
radiant beauty of the mosaics can only succeed in very partially
relieving the deep gloom. As a perfect specimen of the dark ages,
commend me rather to that little ancient Mosque beside the new Cathedral
modelled from it at Marseilles, with its low-arched domes and roofs, and
"dim, religious light."

CHAPTER XX.

A water-excursion--The Bridge of Sighs--Doge's Palace--Archaeological
Museum--The Rialto--The streets of Venice--Aids to disease--Venetian
Immorality--The Arsenal--Nautical Museum--Trip to Lido--Glass works--
Venetian evenings--The great Piazza--Scene on the Piazzetta--Farewell
to Venice.

Stepping into a gondola one sunny day, we glided past the marble
palaces, at the landing-stages of which Venetian "water-carriages" were
moored. We sped down the Grand Canal, passing under the great Rialto
with a thought of the early Venetians who had settled there nearly two
thousand years ago; then round by the narrower and more shaded canals of
the silent city, and presently in one of the narrowest parts we passed
beneath a covered marble arch--the fateful Bridge of Sighs, with a
sympathetic shudder of pitying remembrance. We breathed more freely as
we emerged from these shadowed water lanes, and caught a glimpse of the
bright blue sea fronting us.

On another day we visited the Bridge of Sighs in more orthodox fashion,
so that we might quote with due veracity Byron's ever recurring lines--

"I _stood_ in Venice, _on_ the Bridge of Sighs,
A palace and a prison on each hand;"

and treading in the footsteps of generations of friendless and
oftentimes guiltless criminals, we passed over from the Hall of Justice
in the Doge's Palace, through secret passages, to the Piombi, or state
prison, and thence to the Pozzi, a series of gloomy rock-hewn dungeons,
where the air felt heavy with the breath of _murder_ dignified by the
name of judicial punishment, and where many a hopeless wretch had sighed
out his love, his hopes, and finally his cruelly persecuted life.

Our visit to the Doge's Palace was full of the deepest interest.
Mounting the beautiful