(The Bucintoro being the magnificent barge in which the Doge went to wed
the Adriatic.)

The skill with which the gondoliers manage their graceful craft is always
admired by strangers, and is certainly remarkable. The gondola is very
long and slender, and rises high from the water at either end. Both bow
and stern are sharp, the former being ornamented with that deeply serrated
blade of steel, which it is the pride of the gondolier to keep bright is
silver, and the poop having a small platform, not far behind the cabin, on
which he stands when he rows. The danger of collision has always obliged
Venetian boatmen to face the bow, and the stroke with the oar (for the
gondolier uses only a single oar) is made by pushing, and not by pulling.
No small degree of art (as I learnt from experience) is thus required to
keep the gondola's head straight,--all the strokes being made on one
side,--and the sculling return of the oar-blade, preparatory for each new
stroke, is extremely difficult to effect. Under the hands of the
gondolier, however, the gondola seems a living thing, full of grace and
winning movement. The wood-work of the little cabin is elaborately carved,
and it is usually furnished with mirrors and seats luxuriously cushioned.
The sensation of the gondola's progress, felt by the occupant of the
cabin, as he falls back upon these cushions, may be described, to the
female apprehension at least, as "_too_ divine." The cabin is
removable at pleasure, and is generally taken off and replaced by awnings
in summer. But in the evening, when the fair Venetians go out in their
gondolas to take the air, even this awning is dispensed with, and the long
slender boat glides darkly down the Grand Canal, bearing its dazzling
freight of white _tulle_, pale-faced, black-eyed beauty, and flashing
jewels, in full view.

As for the singing of the gondoliers, they are the only class of Venetians