The weaker began to yield, the train to lengthen, and hopes and fears to increase, until those in front presented the exhilarating spectacle of success, while those behind offered the still more noble sight of men struggling without hope.
Gradually the distances between the boats increased, while that between them and the goal grew rapidly less, until three of those in advance came in, like glancing arrows, beneath the stern of the Bucentaur, with scarce a length between them.

The prize was won, the conquerors were rewarded, and the artillery gave forth the usual signals of rejoicing.
Music answered to the roar of cannon and the peals of bells, while sympathy with success, that predominant and so often dangerous principle of our nature, drew shouts even from the disappointed.
The clamor ceased, and a herald proclaimed aloud the commencement of a new and different struggle.

The last, and what might be termed the national race, had been limited by an ancient usage to the known and recognised gondoliers of Venice.

The prize had been awarded by the state, and the whole affair had somewhat of an official and political character.

It was now announced, however, that a race was to be run, in which the reward was open to all competitors, without question as to their origin, or as to their ordinary occupations.