But now our winding course reveals to us, suspended over this noble thoroughfare, a structure which we recognize at once—"The Bridge of the Rialto." For centuries this was the only bridge that crossed the Grand Canal. An ugly one of iron has been constructed near the railway station; but this Rialto remains a relic of Venice in her glory, for its huge arch is entirely of marble, and has a length of over a hundred and fifty feet. Its cost exceeded half a million dollars; and the foundations, which for three hundred and twenty years have faithfully supported it, are twelve thousand trunks of elm trees, each ten feet in length. To-day, little shops are built along the bridge, leaving a passageway between them in the centre and one without on either side.
THE RIALTO.
THE CITY OF SILENCE.
The Rialto seems prosaic in the glare of noon. But wave before it, for an instant, the magic wands of fancy and historical association, and we can picture to ourselves how it must have looked when on this Rivo-Alto, or "High Bank," which gives the bridge its name, Venetian ladies saw outspread before them the treasures of the Orient; when at this point the laws of the Republic were proclaimed; when merchants congregated here as to a vast Exchange; and when, on this same bridge, the forms of Shylock and Othello may have stood out in sharp relief against the sky; when, in a word, Venice, like Venus, had been born of the blue sea, possessing all the fascinating languor of the East, and yet belonging to the restless West. But to acquire that mental state in which these visions of Venetian splendor will recur to one, certain conditions are essential for the tourist: first, he must choose the moon for his companion; and, second, he must manage to arrive in the City of the Sea by night. Venice, though beautiful, shows marks of age. The glare of day is far too strong for her pathetically fair, but wrinkled, face. Pay her the compliment to see her at her best. In Venice make your nights and days exchange places. Sleep through the morning hours, and spend the afternoons reading books that tell of old Venetian glory. Then, when the daylight wanes, and the moon turns these streets into paths of shimmering gold, go forth to woo Venezia, and she will give you of her best.
