St Josephs College - Footprints Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

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The Charm of Venice IN all my travels there was nothing more beautiful, more charming, than tin spectacle which greeted m sighl as I first looked upon Venice, the glorious city in the sea. There, before mj ryes stretched thai glistening city of my dreams, a pretty picture upon the sands of the seashore. Her statelj palaces reflected on the gleaming waters, resembled a phantom cit) i ' ii a silver} stream. How solemn, how impressive was the tranquility that wrapped the scene! Travel where I did, neither London nor Paris, neither Berlin nor Rome feasted m vision with such a banquet of beauty. It was the unfolding of a dream, a fairy land made real by art. age and industry. Fancy a cit) ' where tin- silence is unbroken by the tread of horses or the rumbling of wheels, when- the streets are crossed in boats, and where gondolas drift to merry-makings or to funerals. Such a city is Venice. As 1 alighted from the railroad station into one i these bewitching boats the charm of Venice was alreadv upon me. The gondola swayed to and fro in almost human response to the gondolier ' s rhythmic oar. This was the only sound ' hat broke flic quietness of the scene and left my eye at full liberty to take in the inexhaustible loveliness of color and form. Sa premi. cried the gondolier as he turned the corner, and for a moment all was in confusion. Everywhere were gondolas, gondolas moored at the quay waiting for passengers, gondolas drawn up in front of palaces, and gondolas sweeping down the Grand Canal. All were painted black, in accordance with an ancient law. passed when the decorations of the fascinating water-carriages were becoming too sumptuous for Republican morals. Hut even now man} of them were very elegant. They were long and slender in appearance, with a high, steel pointed beak, oddly shaped and usually fitted out with superb carvings. In striking contrast with these sombre ships were found vessels. in the large canal, with sails of brilliant hues, mostly red and orange. The radiance of these sails and of the bright and grotesque vanes at the mast- heads under sunlight were beyond all painting. As my gondola glided over the great lagoon, the splendor of the spec- tacle impressed me. The buildings that 1 had so fondlj studied in hooks and pictures now rose before me. They far exceeded m expectations, being wonderfully beautiful with their superb architecture and their great variety pf color. One by one the) appeared, the hooded cupolas of St. Mark, the tall Campanile, glittering red in the sun: the Morescoe Palace of the Doges; the gloomy Bridge of Sighs and the dark dungeons to which it leads. The palaces and churches on each side of the water gave the scene a medieval Setting and the illusion was such that as the gondola neared the Rialto I would not have been surprised to have encountered Shylock. The Rialto was formerly the rich business and mone) center of the iil . hut now it has fallen into decay and is used b the poorer classes for simps. I soon learned that the same man who built this bridge also built the Bridge of Sighs. There is a world of sentiment around this beautiful hut gruesome link connecting the State prisons with the Doge ' s Palace. Prisoners who crossed it never saw the light of day again. They spent their remaining days in dark and damp cells which would make the saddest lite in the Free light and air seem bright and desirable. Venice is the city of majestic palaces. It has been said of some oi her larger buildings that they serve as a standard by which the ancient great- ness of Venice itself may he measured. I he principal one is the Palace ol the Doges. This is claimed to he the finest building in the world. Charles { 1 ' i

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The Fourth Dimension IF you were to tell someone that a flexible sphere might be turned inside out without tearing, that an object might be removed from a closed room without penetrating the walls and that the links of a chain might be separated unbroken, he would say Impossible, Absurd. No more so than is the idea that the earth is round or that it revolves about the sun. These tacts are as contradictory to the senses as are the former and yet they are accepted as established facts. So, too, as time goes on, perhaps, the idea of a fourth dimension may be received with equal credulity. It is impossible to form a mental picture of the fourth dimension. To gain a partial idea of it one must resort to analogy with dimensions of a lower order. By imagining two-dimensional beings living in a plane and incapable of understanding our world of three dimensions, we get an idea of our relation to the world of four dimensions. Suppose we place a two- dimensional being, a flatlander, in a circle. He would go all around the circle but finding it closed would despair of getting out, as we would, locked in a closed cell. But we of the third dimension could step over the boundary to the outside o! the circle. In like manner, if we place a four-dimensional being within the six walls of a cell, he could get out without breaking ceiling, walls or floor. He could do it as easil) as we pass over the circle — so won- derful to our friend in llatland. We might call the space enclosed within the fourth dimension hyperspace. The question now arises, bias ' hyperspace ' a real physical existence? If so. our world must have a slight extension in the fourth dimension, other- wise it would be nothing but a shadow cast by a more real four-dimensional world. The existence of a slight extension in fourth dimension would simplify many scientific theories. Hyperspace has been brought somewhat into disrepute because the spiritualists have assumed its existence to give a local habitation to their imaginings. Nevertheless, no one has yet found the possibility of its existence to be in conflict with any scientific fact, and the limit of space to three dimen- sions is therefore empirical. MARGARET JOHNSTON, ' 26. Prayer I wandered through the moonlit woods alone. The night was still: no leaf stirred in a breeze. A pond I sought, but. in its place I found A pool of liquid moonlight ' mid the trees. And while I gazed, a dazzling angel came Bearing on high, a star bedimmed, once bright, And dipping ' neath the pool his burden great, He drew from thence a blazing, blinding light. ( )h, God, give me the ever constant will To plunge into Thy ] 1 of living grace. That, shining like another deathless star. I ever may give joy before Thy face. MABEL I. BARTON, ' 26. 16}S --

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Dickens has described it as a palace mure majestic and magnificent in its old age than all the buildings of the earth in the high prime and fullness of their youth. Its galleries are so delicate that fairy hands might have fashioned them, and yet they are so strong that all the wear and tear of centuries have battered them in vain. Beside this palace stands the cathedral of St. Mark, one of the glories of modern Europe. It has been called the church that can lie neither described nor forgotten. Guarding its portals are the four famous In uses, so important in the chronicles of Venice. This building afforded work for Doge after Doge, and generation after generation its splendor increased. Its shape was altered, its treasures expanded, until, in the beginning of the nineteenth century, the great Napoleon conquered Venice and all operations ceased. Besides possessing one of the richest collections of church articles, its altar is without equal in the universe. In striking contrast to these gigantic structures, are the small shops of the Venetian merchant. What treasures are within their walls! Here I found beautiful Mosaic pieces: there, colored glass moulded into all kinds of shapes, and everywhere. I came upon exquisite, web-like, Venetian lace. One could spend hours wandering through this entrancing maze of shops, looking at the novelties they offer to the casual and curious shopper. Every visitor marvels at the mellow moonlight in Venice, and well he may. for there is nothing on earth so bewitching. You forget the far-off world, that hard, old world with its miseries and misfortunes, and think onl} of love, romance and happiness. In the evening, when the pale moon rises above the horizon, dim lights flicker everywhere, from the moving gondolas to the corner of some quiet courtyard. The lapping of water on the marble palaces does not disturb but rather adds to the tranquility of the night. As one muses on the beauties of the Queen of the Adriatic, there gradually steals across the waters of the Grand Canal the strains of some sweet Italian soul;. Enraptured, I boarded a gondola and was taken to the scene of this melodious music. As I glided nearer, the music increased in volume and the singers raised their voices in heavenly harmony. Many gondolas were clustered around a gaily lighted barge crowded with these Venetian song-birds. Their refrains floated softly on the breeze and each listener held his breath for fear of interrupting the accents so full of tenderness and love. What heart, no matter how cold or hard, would not melt at the sound of such ethereal music? Those whose locks shone silver in the moonlight recalled their past romance and happiness, while youths dreamed and planned for the future. When the moon had finished its course over this phantom- like city, the carefree life once more awoke. The sun. as it rose, cast its bewitching rays on the tinted waters of this beautiful Queen of the Sea. My stav in this charming citv was ended and 1 had to bid. as Cesare Morandi did. To Venice: A Farewell. Venice, farewell, your evening tints arc shed, Soft crimson shadows at this hour you lay I pon each palace now that gleameth red Ere lovelier eve give place to lovely day The lender dawn, the golden moon, soft night, Will ever stay a vision o] delight. No mare an quiet lagoon, by dreamy isle. Shall my gondola there in silence glide; Xo more shall I behold you sadly smile When loveliest tints are gathered an vour tide. The colour, light, t. ' ie dreamy dip of oar .Ire tenderest memories far evermore. HE LEX WEIDEN, ' 26. - 4 1 8 f -