Image provided by: University of Oregon Libraries; Eugene, OR
About The Oregon daily journal. (Portland, Or.) 1902-1972 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 6, 1908)
OREGON-SUNDAY JOURNAL, PORTLAND, SUNDAY, MORNING DECEMBER !liiPii)T mllljnlmiHi!1!Hll,iMlmlUMWVim ii inir I in ill iini 1 i ;''iii!!'Hl"l ' mmmmmtl'm j f . ...! ,, .,! ,i: . ' .. . -m: wmm:. .Wriiiifc&ftL ' '.. .."J"";1" ... .. - . 'Ll , . ' 'MJJwwii L.1 , 1 iiiiiim mi i. . i, . .n,,,..,., ' AN EPISODE IN VENICE. W IT was half-past ten in the morning of a glorious Fourth of July in Veniceglorious with radiant sunshine) blue sky, and' shimmering waters. There was no display 'of flags and bunting,' no sound of fire-crackers, nothing that makes the day noticeable in America,' and Dorothy Sf one man, of Chicago, aged eleven, walking beside her. father that bright morning, never once thought what day it was. . r . They had arrived ( in Venice early, after traveling all night, and Mrs.. Stoneman, suffering with a head ache, having sought the quiet of her room, it chanced that Dorothy and her father started for a few; hours' sight-seeing by themselves. ' Arjiome Dorothy had prided herself upon being one of the most patriotic girls in the country. Just before the Fourth she had always made out a list of fire works for her father to bring her what she considered necessary for the proper celebration of the day. Hav . inir no brothers, Elmer Dewey, who lived next door, used to come over and assist both in selecting the fire works and in celebrating with them. He had given her a small flag when they said good-by, and she had promised to carry it all day and to think of him on the Fourth of July, wherever she might be. This had been only three months ago. But when going from place to place in a foreign country it is not always an easy matter even to keep trace of what day of the week it is; ami there being no preparations I going on, as theje are in America, to remind them of the approach of the F6urth, it slipped into place like ,any ordinary day, and no one recognized it. A short walk brought Dorothy and her father to the front of a great church, before a recess, high up over the entrance of which stood four bronze horses, and Mr. Stoneman, taking a book from his pocket, came to a standstill. : It was doubtless all well worth looking at, but soon an object caught Dorothy's -eye that was of much greater interest to her than churches or bronze horses. A little girl of about her own age was crossing the - , .. . t ...tar, tltA.r tirr C t Q fl ft in (T W3t SqUirC lUWUlU Wiil.1V livj .....v. ........... .q. bareheaded, and her small face was full of winning gentleness. She was all brown, hair, eyes' and com plexion varying in shade from chocolate to cream, and her frock looke'd as if it had faded for the purpose of blending with the tints of the wearer. Across one shoulder she carried a sort of wooden yoke, some thing like an Indian bow, from each end of which was suspended a small copper bucket filled with water. Mr. Stoneman was. gazing upward, absorbed in con templation of the bronze horses, and the girl observ ing his attitude and apparent interest stopped, slipped the yoke from her shoulder, and placing the buckets upon the ground, came close beside him and looked up in the same direction with frowning curiosity. It may have been that she. thought something was about to take place with those horses, or perhaps she could not understand why the tall stranger was gazing at them. Whatever it was, after a short scrutiny she turned away, and in doing so came face to face with The little girls looked at each other, and then both smiled at once, one in English and the other in Italian, but it needed no interpreter to make either understand. . , . . . Dorothy put out her hand and caressingly touched the somewhat soiled one of her companion, and tfitf smiling continued. All at once, as if some recollecr tion had come to her, the small brown water-carrier turned to where her buckets were standing, and raising the yoke to her shoulder, with-a backward glance showing her face still illuminated, trotted awaywand disappeared round an adjacent corner. Mr. Stoneman being still absorbed in the study of the front of the church. Dorothy walked to the corner; a moment later, to see if her new acquaintance was still in sight. Yes, there she was stopping at an open door ; -.and Dorothy ran down the narrow street to exchange smiles with her once more, the little brown maiaen? put down her buckets, and the children drew near and looked into each other's face again. There was a gull as wide as the world between them, but the living in-, stinct of childish sympathy spun its invisible thread An untidy woman, and a little tot who evidently had tnA a morning walk before being washed, stopped Z ,inr to rare at the unusual sight of the little American in their neighborhood. Half a dozen boys thm. and before ana Kins ui jmumu, . Dorothy was aware she was the center of a curiou gfItU suddenly occurred to her that she was out of her father's sieht and had betted return. Edging her way out between the spectators, she tripped back to the CIt looked like the same corner she had turned a few minutes before, but before l going many steps .bfflonJ it she discovered that she had made a mistake. There, was nothing in sight that sh remembered. Retracing her steps, she tried again; but instead of tom.ng to the church where she had left her father, slie found her self at the end 0f a street where a short flight of stone $T St? Dohy "w'ith a sudden thrill-a that went from her heart out to the ends of her finKiTwd tow and back again-that he. was lost! l ief f ather had reneatedly warned her not to wander from his sight. She vlvidlv" remembered the; warning n0ShVwas too frightened' to cry. Round" the corned and Sd another narrow street she ran, over a bridge ?hat sVrnedto her excited senses tobe stretched , across the canal by magic at her approachA; v ... faces wYre passing 16-andTfror- their S3 hounot Unfriendly, only, added to her Sam! She was about to start again, m another.d.- rection, when her heart save -a 'bound of ioy. Sud denly, as though she had come up out of the stones of the street, the little brown water-carrier stood be- fore her I - Dorothy had known in her life what -it was to be glad, but ne er before had she felt the gladness of that moment; . v ' . . Before the smile of the brown maiden had widened sufficiently, to ,ahow . half 'her : white teeth, Dorothy's' arms were" elapsed about her, and in the great uni versal language of tears she made known her trouble. Several passers-by stopped, and there was much talk ing and gesticulating, as if all were offering advice, which doubtless was the case, -and then the Venetian AN INSTANT LATER THE BOY, CAP IN girl took Dorothy by the hand, and with an under standing between them as perfect as if it had been expressed in words, they left the chattering group and tripped back up the quaint old street. Over'a bridge or two, and then a few yards beside a canal, it was but a very short distance, although Dorothy seemed to have gone miles, when a sudden turn brought .them into the square where the great fhurch stood. The bronze horses looked quite like amiliar friends to Dorothy, who, dropping her com panion's hand, ran to the place where she had left her father. There were a number of people moving about the square, but Mr. Stoneman was nowhere to be seen. Dqroth'y looked in every direction, and then the tears returned and again flooded her blue eyes. The. little Venetian undoubtedly understood the situ ation, for she took Dorothy's hand once more, and pointing in an opposite direction, murmured some un intelligible words and Dorothy, drying her tears, went willingly with her in the direction indicated. A fe,w minutes' walk brought them to the side. of fhe square, where a broad flight of steps led downto the water, and a row of long, slender black boats, or gondolas, were moored. They paused at the top, and the little brown girl looked up and down among the boatmen lying idly about. - Very likely she was looking for some gondolier who was known to understand English. Dorothy's glances also wre wandering about, and all at once they fell on something thai set her heart beating again in the most violent manner. There, on the shining blue-green waters before her, was a gondola silently gliding toward the place where they were standing. The only occupant beside the Italian who stood up profiling it was a boy somewhat Older than herself.'wearing a sailor-cap and blouse. But it was neither the fine gondola nor its occupants that caused the commotion under Dorothy's bodice. it was the fond, familiar sight of an American flag ftvhich she saw flying at the stern of the boat! Never before, though she loved them well, had the Stars and Btripes appeared half so dear and beautiful to her. vvitn a cry oi welcome tnat startica tne laiers aoour the landing, she ran down the stone steps, and reached fhe water's edge just at the moment that the graceful feondol i came . ongs.de. An instant later the boy. can in hand, was standing beside her. He was a head taller than she, with the friendliest gray eyes imaginable, and hair that looked -bronze in the sunshine. Dorothy saw that he was almost as distinctly Ameri can as the flag. Eagerly, as if she feared he might escape, before she could make known her need, she burst out, in a tone the genuine distrss of which there was no mistaking: v,; : "Oh, excuse me,, but you are" an" American, are n't you? and won't you please help me to find my fattier? I 've" lost hinv and don't know my way or or any thing." The tears were coming again. "'Don't don't cry.' said the boy, replacing his cap with one hand., "You '11 soon find your father." And then, 'by way of further consolation, he added: "One can't get lost for' very king in Venice." ;Dorothy held an entirely different opinion, but she did not contradict him. ' She brokenly told him of the morning's experience, not forgetting the part the little brown rirl (who had drawn near and was watching them with deep interest) had plaved. Do you remember the name of the hotel where you are staying?" he asked, as she paused. to tuck away her' handkerchief somewhere beneath the folds of her frock. hfeGrancLHote answered orotnyher-fact liehtin? up. "Papa said h had quite a homelike sound." .: :. , ; r; ; . ' 1.11 llll i ill If Rilii Mh-k J-! ' The boy's eyes looked friendlier than ever as he said: . "I don't know your name yet." 1 "Oh," exclaimed Dorothy, "I forgot we were strangers 1" " Then they both laughed and the little Venetian, 'being within the influence, smiled "I 'm Dorothy Stoneman,'-' she continued, "and we live in Chicago. And, oh, I 'd like to much to find out her name I" indicating the little brown girl. "She, has been so good to me !" . ' "That s easy to find out." replied the boy. And, to Dorothy's surprise, he addressed the little Venetian in her own, tongue. "Her name is Bettina," he announced a moment later.' "Please tell her how much I thank her," said Doro thy,' "and that I want her to stay with me till I find .my father, and he '11 give her some money." This was duly interpreted; and the brown face beamed. .. ; ' ''" "Now." said the young knight, "I '11 take you to the hotel. Your lather would very likely go hack there ' first, T believe, for i guide." He spoke a few words in Italian to the man who had , remained standing in the gondola, an apparently in terested spectator throughout the interview. Silently the boat was turned about and brought to a standstill at .the steps. Dorothy was gallantly assisted to a seat. Bettina stepped lightly in without help. Then the boy seated himself, facing t Dorothy, and the gondola glided out on the smooth, bright Water. " ft was like a scene out of. a story-book, and in the pleasant novelty of the situation Dorothv forgot her troubles. HAND, WAS STANDING BESIDE HER. Before the hotel came in sight she and her new ac quaintance were on terms of friendship that under or dinary circumstances it would have taken weeks to reach. In the exchange of confidences she learned that her companion's name was Paul Mathews, that he and his parents had been living in Venice a year, and that their home was in Bostoiv where they expected to re turn in the autumn, to which time he was longingly looking forward. The marble front' of the hotel was soon pointed out, and. as they drew near, Dorothy recognized among several figures on the porch the form of her father. Some one in the group called his attention to the ap proaching gondola, and then there Was a wavjng of hands and the sound of voices exchanging happy greet ings across the canal, and a few minutes later the little party alighted at the steps. Mr. Stofteman's face still wore an anxious look. Me had been just about setting out with a guide to search for Dorothy. Introductions and explanations followed, and Bct tina's eyes sparkled at sight of the silver coins that Dorothy's father placed in her little brown palm. To Paul he gave his warmest (hank, with many a hearty handshake. "After (his I shall be prouder (linn ever of "Young America," added Mr.'Stonctnan, putting his arm about Paul's shoulders. There are no hoys in the world like those of my own country.'' It was the flag I .noticed hrst. cried Dorothy. If it had n't ieen for (hat I might n't have seen Paul. How lovely it is" looking a him admiringly "to think you always carry our flag on your gondola I" "But I don't always," renlied Paul, honestly; "only on American holidays. Of course we celebrate' the glorious Fourth, and this being the Fourth of July ' "Oh, no," gasped Dorothv, interrupting; "it can't be!" It had fallen like a bolt from a clear sky. A vision of Chicago, and Elmer Dewey, and the flag that had been lying folded in' the bottom of the trunk for three months, came before her. . - "Papa,x papa !" she cried reproachfully, "how could we forget it?" Mr. Stoneman stared blankly, and Bcttina's eyes grew grave with wondering what all the excitement was about. "-There 's plenty of time yet to celebrate," ventured Paul, who had not fully gra'sped the, situation. VYou don't understand," sorrowfully replied Doro thy. And then she told him about her playmate at home, and of his parting gift, which she had promised to display on Independence Day, wherever she might happen to be. "I '11 be so ashamed, to tell him that I fogot it was the Fourth until almost noon," she concluded, with a deep sigh. The thought of the offense against patriot ism was overwhelming. " "It can't be heloe," said Mr. Stoneman, in a sympa . thizing voice. "We must get the flag out now, and make the best of a, bad matter." Paul had taken out his watch and was intently look ing at it: then for the second time that morning fie cameto Dorothy's rescue. This time he brought art inspiration instead of a gondola, but it served her needV just as well. "We 've all forgotten about the difference of timej?' he said, his gray eyes dark in their earnestness. "'It V not quite five o clock in the morning in Chicago now; . The people there are just wakinsr up." The sunshine broke out on Dorothv's face and her feet began to dance.. She grasped Bettina by her dis ensaired hand, and in an ecstasy-of delight cried oistr "Get the flagquic!. papa L Just thinkof it; Elmer '$ not P yet, the day is. n't beirun, and we have n't lost ' the Fourth bfjvt after all - ';; r j - COPYRIGHT' IV THC CENTURY COMPANY c y JOIM MOW. ou all have heard of Venice, that curious city on the Adriatic Sea where the streets are canals and the men go from place to place in gondolas instead of in carriages. Long ago Venice was one of the wealthiest i ities in the world : its great fleets brought home the merchandise of the East, jewels and silks and spices; its merchant princes built those beautiful palaces which itand to-day beside the Grand Canal, most of them sadly in need of repair, it is true, but majestic still, though the plaster is falling from their weather-beater walls. Perhaps Venice is even more beautiful now in its decay than it was in the days of its greatest glory, for age has a beauty of its own, softer and more deli cate than that of youth. The bright colors which once shone with dazzling brilliancy under the Italian sky are now subdued and mellowed like those of an old tapestry. So, though wealth and commerce are de serting the city in the sea, its loveliness increases from year to year and attracts to it thousand of, visitors A CANAL . from all parti of th? arth i from Germany and Eng land and America, and even from far-away China and Japan. These visitors corne in the greatest numbers in the early springtime, for then the weather is best; the days are clear and fine, and the bright southern sun makes Italy warm and delightful when people in more northern countries are still shivering with the cold. So during the pleasant spring days the old square of San Marco, the Public Gardens, and the bathing beach at the Lido are crowded with strangers, while the graceful black gondolas which dart through the narrow canals are nearly all decorated with the t flags of foreign countries, among which the Stars and Stripes are not lacking. But it is on a moonlight night that Venice is most beautiful. Then the lights along the quay adjoining the Doge's Palace show throngs of laughing people; the ancient mansions that line the . Grand Canal seem to be. gazing calmly down at their brokrn reflections in the dark waters, and the moon rides high in the heavens abpve the white dome of the church of "Our Lady of Salvation." Suddenly the soft strains of 1 tci music mi uic air. iney come irom a large boat, all aclow with cav rnlnn vnA r.nl.rn T fint. aiong tne center of the Grand Canal, rtie crowd on the quay cease chattering and laughing for an instant, the balconies of the hotels fill with eager listeners, and the fleet gondolas which have been darting about itt the moonlight cluster quicklj around the boat,' where j boy is singing to the accompaniment of two or three stringed instruments. i , , The young Venetian's beautiful Voice rises dear and! strong on the still night air as he sings an Italian love song. To many of his hearers his words are withouS meaning, but the language of music is universal: j singer needs ng iatcrprstcr. so the stranger, as Uk - 13 r." j . . . j i i' ....... ii. . h ugaia -f I I! ANTIQUE STAIRWAY IN A PRIVATE FAUCI IN VENICE leans baCk on the cushioned seat of his gondola, under stands as well as the native All discordant sounds are hushed ; only a faint murmur from the people on the quay, the soft rubbing of one gunwale against another as the gondolas snuggle closely toother, and the lap, difffr?; t nPP'eS mingIe i,h t,,c "nsarto make it Z .? .tVer ftr"rd. when the music of that song flashes through his memory, as music has a way of doing, he-witt see again the moonlight and the daHc SiheTay.ber 1 1 jT "f v ir ,7 . 4i dJ IH;; .t-v'r? CD
