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A It 1 Published by J. H. & G. G. My rover, Corner Anderson and Old Streets, Fayetteville, N. C. IT JLJ iriiwir 111 VOL. 2 NO. 51.3 North Carolina Gazette. O. II. & G. Gr. MYUOVER, X,uVllsli.ers. TERMS OF SUliSCllIPTIOX: One year (in advance),... Six lllOIltllH " Throe " " 2 50 CLUB RATES: 10 copies (weut to one addrewa with an extra copy $23 50 .'20 " ' .. .. 40 00 1 40 " ' " " ' 75 00 50 " " ." " " " and a proiiiinm of a fimr elinnno. valiuj i-23 90 00 100 copies (sent to oncTiddrfna) with an extra :opy and a premium of a tine chromo, value W0 l."0 00 . HA TES OF ADl'EllTISI X(i : One square (0 lines suliil nonpareil) one iiim-rtion 1 00 " . , ' two " 1 50 '. " " " one month i! M three " 5 OO .. ' .. ... ... hix 9 00 " .. .. .. .. twelve ' 15 00 Longer arivt-rli -eun-;its chaiired in proportion t- llie aliovH rata. Speeial notices vti jmt cent, more than regular advertisenn nln. " Home Circle. t - - il.inw is the Sacred iicfue of Onr Life." Drtfdtn. THE BROKEN PRIMROSES A II I 1 H LA S I STORY. Among Jill tlit' Honeys that make t lie country beautiful, I think none ii.t v- Mali a tender place in memory as the primrose. Who ever passed the mouths of spring in the country; in childhood, w ho-cannot re call liiv joyously tin- first appearance of the favorite was hailed, 'and -its opening watched as its lie ..te t.uds peeped from amongst the thh ;. ret ii leaves undci the shade of a briar or around the roots of a w ide hraiichiiiiT ash tree, or on t lie ti.uv shelves of tie- Li x- rock ? To see -even a I-mo-Ii ' artificial prim roses on a pretty y viw lady's bonnet seems to me to yive ''u-U of poetry t the wearer; whilst to see them wmn by a ma tron about to enter - into the ere and- yel low '"leaf jierioil iook like the ripe inotiihs of September or t)-i-t''i'i' wearing the livery of spring. Thc seem more in keep ing even on the silvery locks of obi aire; for an early primrose may blossom on -the brow of winter, But to otn storv. The lain! of a. certain Highland estate, which we call Achaneilean, was early leit fatherless, lut was 'carefully trained by a Very wise, although a Noting mother. Sir Kvan was a tine, high-spirited young man, who gave her the" very highest satisfaction in all things, excepting in the wandering habits he had early formed. He would often dress himself in the strangest dis guises and mingle with his tenants, tak ing a. leading share in their games and pastimes, His mother, knowing his high and honorable nature, was never afraid of liis doing anything wrong, , at such times, but she thought his conduct 11 undignified ; so, as she could not win liim from his strange habit, f-hi- tried to rtirtueuee 'him to get married. With this object in view she g;rtheted around her, both jn London and at home, ail the young ladies she most admired ; but her efforts seemed in vain. Sir Kvan was .courteous and atlen- ! I , i i- . ni-vf. i.io ..twit! f.. ...- free : and she i -v. wit-h to see iiim m.i'."i"i-.; witii .ut siuceie ;ittaclnnent. Siie knew1 the ri ipiiieinents of his natiue. and understood, therefore, that u loveless marriage would onlv drive him farther into the wandering habits from which she wi.-hed him weaned. When Sir l'.v.iii ;:s in his . twenty -iifth Year, he went to a a 'alit part, of his cs- ie had never visited i..-loi'e; - ami, hearing t lie: was i i be a u itdii;, he went to it in ; .!.- :iise Us u luitistret. He wore a tatlere.-: iu (.utau -o.t, and car i ied his tbiole o r !,is .-in ubicr in a gr i-n baize bag, whiisi his fair skin was stai;;cd to appear like a 'gipsy's, i It was (7 anl the latter cnl ef sprmr a clear, ln-autifiil afiernoon and lv t'he rivcrsidc the young ptople were gayly dancing, whilst an old, white-haired man. ' with palsied hand, was trying his best to jive them music The.yoiing man drew near," ami, bowing '. to the coinjiany, he drew his old bonnet over his brow, ajtd began to play. The dancers were delighted, for they had never lis'ened to such strains before ; utui the old tiddler, trembling for f ar of losing the reward tie expected, went to the young minstrel in the first pause of the music, and pro post .i that whatever was paid to either of them ul i be equally divided with the otiu- t i,e oitng man 'when the best ;:m a irlass of some- laughingly asselite. ., man came to oiler -. thing to drink, he ivi it was getting cold, if play tl'em a spring, ! be allowed to dance ,i Permission was at iuinstrel asked for t: gray-cyed, modest h. graceful moveiuenis .se-! it ; but said, as the old man would w onld be glad to :v. l. . u.-e given, and t'u. is partner :i pretty. King mat. ten, whox. r.- !i.:d watched in the (lance. She readily gave lm her liaml, ami sucii il;iiirin iis seItoin, seeii bv those present When he led her !ack to her friends, 'he offered her a few prim roses from a small bouquet he had gather ed by the river side, ami, turning to annul er fair girl, he offered her the remainder of the flowers, and begged tier hand for th next dance. She tossed her head indig nantly, and her looks said plainly: "D 3-ou think I Would dance with a gipsy f She had taken the flowers out of his hand, but she broke them, and cast them awav, saying sullenly, "I don't care for flowers, and 1 m not going to dance with you thank vou." The voniiff man turned awav hastily, and the maiden who had danced with him said to her companion, "How- could vou wound the young man's feelings so ? WhatH carin could it do vou to dance with him 7 Awl oh J Aht dea? primroses ; th first I have seen this year ; see, you have broken them , and iJlen bowed down and gath ered the scattered flowers, and careifully placing them among those given herself, fixed them in her belt. "How could you rather dance with a fellow like that likely one of the gang of tinkers that passed yesterday? And will vou really wear the flowers he gave?" replied the maiden with a scornful sneer. "I wear the flowers for their own sakes. How could you break them the beau ties!" replied ElleHfP caressing the bou quet with a tender touch ; "as for dancing .vith the young man, Tarn sure I am quite readv to do so again, were it onlv for his delightful-music." Maiiraret drew herself awav in digni fled silence. She was quite horrified at the conduct of Ellen ; and the young man, who was hovering near, and watching the maidens, again offered his hand to Ellen ; and, anxious to heal the wound her com panion had given, she danced with him gladly. He saw she was enraptured with his music, and he was delighted when, at the close of the festival, she asked him to proceed to her father's house, where she wished to hear again his sweet strains. She had ati old piano not a very good one, but nevertheless one that gave her pleasure; and she wished to try some of th' turves he had played to the dancers. Ellen's sisters were very much afraid she had compromised the family dignity bv mincing with this stroller, and they grum bled about her asking him to their home so late in the evening. He went, how ever : and after Ellen and himself had discoursed music for a considerable length of time, to- the delight of the old folks, who w ere rather proud of Ellen's musical taste, he rose to leave. They offered him a bed in the barn, but he said he had to be miles' away before daylight ; so Ellen gave him a piece of money, and stuffed his pockets with bread and beef and a large piece of cheese, at the same time begging of him if he ever came that way again to give them the pleasure of listening to his minstrelsy. Sir Evan returned to his own castle, but ho could not banish the image of the gentle Ellen from his heart. When he slept or woke he always saw her as she stood lixit.-g the broken primroses in her belt looking so sweet and pretty iti her white dress and blue ribbons,. and her rip pling brown hair tossed ttoth by the even ing breeze and bv the dancing ; and. at length, when his mother renewed her at tacks upon hitri about getting married, he told her of the maiden he had learned to love so Well. , . . The lady was dumbfounded. W as her darling son, the pride of her heart, to wed a nameless, humble bride? But as she pondered the matter over she became more reconciled to it. If he loved this maiden his happiness was concerned; and what was his true happiness was hers. So after a short silence, that almost seemed years, she raised her hjad and asked Sir Evan if he had cause to think the maiden returned his love ? 'l dare not say she does, mother," he replied ; 'yet, I think she thought ten derly of the strolling musician. I think there was a sigh" of regret for his not be ing the son of a neighbor farmer. I could read that in her dark gray eyes, even when she 'was not the least conscious of it her self." "God bless vou, mv dear sort,'' replied the good lady, with a tremor in her voice, M rod bless vou, indeed; so amiable a maiden must prove a sweet, companion ; nut she must be hi a measure accomplish ed according to vour statement ; and if it is for your happiness, I am reconciled." The 'young man kissed his 'mother's, hand with tenderness and gratitude : and lit went at once to order out his carriage tor the- interesting journey. lie dressed with great care, and a finer looking man could seldom be seen. His well-knit limbs were little and hardy-looking, and showej- the nimble huntsman or the brave soldier, as occasion might demand. His dark, hazel eye was beautiful, and his curling hair of the very sunniest shade of brown. His bushy whiskers were auburn, and the habit of command gave a dignity to his-presence that heightened the charm of the whole. Ellen's father-saw' the carriage approach his house in great surprise, for he knew the great yellow carriage, though he had nut seen it for years. He wentbonnet in hand, to meet the laird, whilst his good wife hastily got on her best cap, and look ed to her w hisky bottle and her bread and cheese, in case b might alight to rest his horses and get some refreshments, as she had seen- his excellent father do. Sir Evan leaped from the carriage, and gaily entered the old house as if he had been an acquaintance for years, to the great delight olr the good farmer and his wife. He partook of a glass of rich cream and a piece of delicious oat-cake, and then asked to see their Mainily. They came one by one, tall, blushing girls, and stout, healthy looking, awkward lads all but Ellenj and Sir Evan asked if these were all. "We liave one other daughter, one sec ond eldest, but she is busy with some household duties, and unfit to come in your presence; so we hope you will excuse her, Sir Evany" said the mother gravely. "Show me w here to find her then, and I will go to her," said Sir Evan, with a strange quiver of lip tnd voice. The mother was about to call the daugh ter, when-one of the boys, hastily opening the door, pointed to the room where Ellen was busy taking off -the butter from the churn. She was arrayed in a plain gray linen oress, clean and very neat, and the curls that had hnng so prettily about her neck and face at the wedding, were fasten ed back with a piece of bright bine rib bon : but the drooping, tall, lily-like fiff ren and the modest grey eyes were the same, and the expression that he thought so angelic, when she gathered the broken primroses was still the same also ; indeed, as he gazed upon her, he thought her more beantiful than ever. She looked bewil dered at the fair face of the young man, anl he took her hand; saying: "I have accepted your invitation, Ellen. You see I have returned, though in good sooth your eyes would speak a warmer welcome "if I had come with my tattered coat and my fiddle." Ellen stood speechless in astonishment, for she saw, indeed, he was no other than the strolling musician, for that hazel eye had left a tender regret in Ellen's heart for which she had often chided herself; and as it flashed across her mind who he was, and how she had stuffed his pocket with bread and leef, she fell on her knees, crying, ''Forgive me, sir; oh, forgive "me; I knew not, indeed, you were any other than what 'on seemed." "Forgive you, Ellen ! Yes, my fair girl, you have more need of forgiveness than you think, for yon have stolen my peace of mind away. Will you restore it to me ? Will yon be my partner now again for all my life long?" He raised her from the floor as he spoke, and drew her tenderly to wards him, and she laid her face upon his bosom and wept tears of the purest joy and gladness, as amidst his j caresses, she promised to he his through jlife. Ere he led her back to get a blessing from her parents, he took from his bosom a bouquet of the latest primroses of the vear, and fixed them on her breast, whispering',4 'Ihese flowers must alwavs bettered to us, for it was when you were gathering those of mine, so rudely broken and scat tered by an ungentle hand, that mv soul w ent out to you in the fullness of its first affection." So Ellen became the wife of Sir Evan ; and through life proved herself a true w ife, a loving mother, ami benefactress to the poor and lowly. A 31 OTHER'S WARNING LATE. REMEMBERED TOO "Johnson, the officers say vou were drunk, and that you haven't draw n a sober breath for a week How is that, Johnson?" "Yer honor," said Johnson, as he drop ped one arm over the rail, and leaned back heavily on the policeman who supported him lry the shoulder ayer honor, it's true. I've been drunk for a week, as vou sav, an' I havn't got a word to sav to defend myself. I've been in this 'ere court, I guess, a hundred times before, an' every time I've asked yer honor to let ' me off light. But this time I don't have no fear. You can send me up for ten days, or you tan now seixl me up for years all one 77 As he spoke he brushed away a tear with his hat, and when he paused he coughed a drv, racking cough, and drew his tattered coat closer about his throat. "When I w ent up before," he continued, "I always counted the days an' the hours till I'd come off. This time I'll count the blocks to the Potters' Field. I'm almost gone, Judge. . He paused again, and looked down up on his almost shoeless feet. "When I was a little country boy, mv mother used to say t me, 'Charley, if you want to be a man, never touch liquor ;' an' I'd answer, lSo, mother, I never will.' If I'd kept that promise, you an' me wouldn't have been r so well acquainted, Judge. If I could only be a boy airain for half a day! If I could go into the old school house just once more, an' see the boys and girls as I used to see them in the old davs, I could lav right down here an die happy.' But it's too late. Send me up, Judge. Make it for ten davs, or make it for life. It don't make yo difference. One way would be as short as the other. All I ask now is to die alone. I've been in crowded tenements for years. If I can be alone a little while tefore I go, I'll drop off contented." The shoulder of the muddy coat slipped from the policeman's hand, and the used up man fell in a heap to the floor: He w as carried to the little room behind the rail, llis temples wfere bathed and his wrists were chafed. 'But it was no use. Though his heart sfill jbeat, he was fast going to join his schoolmates, who have crossed the flood. " TlTe shutters were bow ed the door was closed. He miht die contcuted ; for he was left alone. Imitation Gems. There is iu Paris a vast establishment the most extensive of its kind in the world where the imitation of pearls, diamonds and precious stones generally, is carried on with all the skill which modern ingenuity renders possible, and these productions are sent to the. shops of all lands. Here the whole process of transforming a few grains of dirty, heavv looking sand into diamonds of sparkling hue is constantly going on. The sand thus employed, and upon which the whole art depends, is found in the forests of Fon- tainebleau. It appears to possets some peculiar qualities of adaptation to this pur pose. The coloring matter for imitating emeralds, rubies, and sapphires is entirely mineral, and has been brought to high per fection. Hundreds of operatives are em ployed in polishing the colored stones, and in lining the false pearls with fish-scales and wax. The scales of the roacli and dace are chiefly employed for this purpose. They have to'be stripped from the fish while living, or the glistening hue so mnch admired in the real pearL will not be.imi tated. These Paris pearls have been of tat? years so pertected that the Koman pearl has, to a great extent, been super seded. The setting is always of real gold, and the fashion of the newest kind. V? When a man has a business that doesn't pay, be usually begins to look around for partner to share his fc-eees with him. THURSDAY AUGUST 5, Washington Correspondenoe of the Chicago Tribune-J A VILLAIN. Barton Key A New Kdition of an Old Romance. While out for a walk, a few days ago, a small, unpretentious brick house in: the north part of the cityfirithin sight of many of the fashionable residences, was pointed out to me by my companion as the ren dezvous which Hartori Key engaged for his meeting with the beantiful and unfortun ate Mrs Sickles. The house is only two stories high, with a gallery running along the entire side of the house. Windows front the street, as the entrance is beneath the porch on the side. J "I can tell yon all about that tragic affair," said mv friend, "because Iiarton Key was a cousin of ours, and Mr. Sickles anantimate friend and so ciable neighlor. Barton Key although a relative -never crossed the threshold of our house, as mv father and brothers knew too much of his private career to introduce him into their home circle. He was a son of Key who wrote the 'Star-Spangled Banner,' and was a hajjdsome fellow, tall and finely formed, with a rich, dark skin, and unfathomable depth to his lustrous black eves." CRUL AS TIIE GRAVE, j . An incident in his after life is a key note to every after occurrence. He had an intimate friend in the army, now living (and w ill recognize the sad truthfulness of -t$is tale), who was engaged to a 'most fbeautifiil girl, the pride and idol of her fi ance, and the general admiration of all wjho knew her. To her personal loveli ness she added a thousand nameless charms, which captured the ever roving fancy of Barton Jvey, and added him to her list of lovers, although he was subtle enough to know that his affection was doomed to re ceive no return, and that his bosom friend was the successful suitor. Imperative army orders sent the friend far away, and he en treated Key with his farewell breath to look after his sweetheart, and to see that she wanted nothing during his involuntary absence. A "WOLF IN A -SHEEP'S CLOTHING.. Key obeyed his friend beyond the let ter; for more delicate attentions were never before received by any woman, and as he succeeded iu intercepting letters between the lovers, he soon added the missiou of comforter to his other duties. I?y adroit ness, and when the seeds of distrust were most thoroughly sown, and the feeling of pique and resentment crushed the first throbs of sorrow and agony, he addressed his suit, and won an unloving and indiffer ent bride to his arms. His efforts to kin dle one spark of interest or enthusiasm in the breast of his wife proving unsuccessful, in a lit of rage and disappointment he told her that he had been the medium which had sown discord between herself and her only lover; that he had destroyed their mu tual correspondence, and she had been fool enough to believe all that had been told her. From the time of this disclosure the beautiful woman grew whiter and more lily-like, until one day she folded her slender hands and closed her tired eyes, and awoke in that heaven where the weary are at rest. SPURRED ON TO DESPERATE DEEDS. After the death of his wife, Key seemed to embark on a career of utter recklessness, pursuing women with only a desire for their ultimate ruin. The melting, dark eyes rind prettily molded figure of the Mrs. Sickles caught the restless eyes of the libertine, and he resolved on her des truction. He met her constantly; if she was w alking, he joined her; if she rode, he w ould stop the carriage and scat himself by her side, with the confident effrontery of a man who knows his company is agreea ble to the ladies. Mrs. Sickles w as young, beautiful, and not unmoved by the fascina tions of vhe man who constantly sought her company, and made her believe that she alone embodied all the excellencies and perfections of her sex. She did not for one moment contemplate anything but an innocent termination. But "people," the ever w ide-awake "people," with more eyes than Cerberus, began to put their heads together and. "WHISPERING NOT LOUD .BUT DEEP commenced to agitate the air. General Sickles lived in the old Colfax house on the South side of Lafayette Square, and across the park, which was then hardly more than a grass plot, with a few varieties of trees and shrubs here and there, stood a large, double, red brick house, used for a gentlemen's club, and after wards occupied by Secretary Seward. Key aad his room at the club, and from its doors his usual custom was to stroll over to the Sickles' for a morning call, which she sometimes prolonged until after lunch. wAt on of these lunches, when General Sickles was absent, the wine which Mrs. Sickles drank was drugged, it is said, and of what followed that fatal meal the poor woman never was cognizant; but certain it is that Key held that event as a rod of ter ror over her soul, and with it scourged her to the commission of deeds darker than that of the Egyptian plague. She became a mere resistless tool in the bands of this accomplished villain, and day after day this fiend would git m the park, opera-glass m hand, and watch the window of that fate ful mansion, until the unhappy mistress wonld make her appearance and signal with her handkerchief that she knew he was waiting for her; and very soon after ward a veiled lady would be seen wending her way towards the little gray house in the western part of the city. VENGEANCE IS MINE. At last the husband was aroused, and he saw as one from whose eves the scales had fallen. He confronted hig wife, and 1875. she confessed to him the whole tale, from its unhapuv befrinnino- to criminal end. and bade him to watch for the atmearance of Key and his signals. The enraged husband waited only long enough to wit ness the annroach of his enemv. when. l L - 7 - J seizing his hat and revolver, he rushed in to the bright sunshine of a pleasant after noon throuo-h the Dark, filled with ideasnre strollers, and fired shot after shot at Key, no, terrified, ran towards the club-house, here he afterwards died, and went to lake such peace as was possible with his God. The tree against which the murder ered man fell was literally chinned to nieces bv the crowds of relic-hunters who flocked to the citv after the tragedv, and who, years afterward, visited the various points of interest connected with the cause edebre. Sickles was confined in the old prison, near the City Hall, where his lit tie daughter, then about five years old, a sensitive little creature, with long golden ringlets and large thoughtful eyes, was daily brought, until the agony of visiting her father in his imnrisonmeiit. n as so orent. that it was decided best never to bring her there again. IN TIIE VALLEY OF HUMILITY. The mother was carried home bv her friends, and, to evince her humility and sense of degradation, had her bed made on the floor refusing to sleep on anything more pretentious than the simplest pallet. Sickles was really infatuated with his wife: and, notwithstanding her unfaithfulness to him, after a little while he brought her se cretly back to Washington, and they lived together just back of the new Republican buildinrr. Mrs. Sickles never makinor her appearance outside of the house until she was called thence never to return in the flesh. This was the story told me by an old Washingtonian. as we strolled nfon?. tak ing in the beauty of the clear blue skv, budding trees casting their shadows over the grass, as green as grass could be; and, as it interested me. though bv no means an unfamiliar tale, I take the liberty of writing it to yn. But, let me add, feick les' sorrows wererinot deen enomrh to nre- - j r - o r vent his making a second matrimonial at tempt, and two winters ago he appeared at different scenes of gayety, accompanied by an exquisitely beautiful Spanish bride, whose loveliness awoke murmurs of admi ration wherever she moved. The Noble Heakted Soss. There lived once in Stockholm an old man of nearly a hundred winters. He was a tail or by profession, and had twelve sons, w ho all served under Charles XII. Once they got a few days leave of absence from their regiments, to go and see their father, whom they found, on their arrival, without bread and nearly starving. "Father has no bread," said one of them, "yet he has giv en to Sweden twelve warriors! Our dear father must be helped, but hew?" "Can't we find somebody who would be willing to lend us a little money ?" asked the young est, who had a good deal of faith -in God and good hearted people. "Try to borrow money when we have nothing to give in securitv! What. good will that do!" nsk ed another. "Have we nothing at all ?" asked the voungest. "Mv brothers, I will show you what we have. Our father is a tailor, and has carried on his trade for a good many years, and is now about to die of starvation. This is sufficient proof of his honesty. We, his sons,, have served for many years in the ranks of the Swedish army, and no one can yet show a stain up on our honor. Let us give this, our hon or, as security; 1 think we might borrow- a little money on such a pledge." 1 The idea won their general approval. The twelve brothers wrote and signed the following letter: "We, twelve Swedes, sons of a tailor who is nearly 100 years of age, deprived of the necessary means of support, pray the directors of the National Bank for the sum of two hundred dollars, to be used for the support of our old and helpless father. We pledge our honor as security, and promise to pay the above named sum to the bank within j0he year." This letter was handed to tlfe directors. The sum asked for was given to them, and the letter torn to pieces; furthermore, the directors promised to take care of their old father as long as he lived. Scarcely had this happened before it was made known through the entire city, and rich and poor paid visits to the white headed man, and none went empty handed. The tailor was thus placed in good circumstances, and af ter his death left a small capital for each of his sons a reward of their filial love. Fitz Hugh Lee, Kilpatrick and Butler. Think of Fitz Hugh Lee of the ex rebel army marching under the or ders of Maj. Gen. Benjamin F. Butle? of the federal army ! It surpasses compre hension. We read that Lee was cheered everwhere, but nowhere do we read that Butler was the rccipieut of a singler 'rah. Ami this in bravo and loyal old Boston ! The queer association of these men .mast have brought up some remarkable mem ories to the mind of Lee. Kilpatrick,- in one of his dashing raids around the rebel army, captured the southern cavlryman, and he was sent w ith other officers for con finement in Fortress Monroe. Gen. Dix, who was in command at the fort, allowed him the liberty of the post. When But ler came to succeed Dix, at the very first evening parade of the garrison, he observ ed Lee in his Confederate uniform stand ing aside, a careless spectator of the pa geant. "Wlio is that rebel ?" asked But ler of one of his staff. "Gen. Fitz Lee," was the reply. "And why is he allowed his liberty! Confine him at once to his quarters, and keep him there till he is ex changed." And Lee went to his casemate and staved there. A seedy occupation The florist's. Genuine Comfout .Whilo fro a few years since, I was detained some days in one of our "Western cities. My room overlooked a lane or alley -way, in which were several houses occupied by the better class of artisans, and I became much interested in one of these ; so much so, that no sooner did I hear a glad shout from a little voice than I knew it was meal-time, and "Daddy was coming," and I took up my point of observation in harmless and admiring scrutiny of the well governed house. On the way in, the father raised the rejoicing child in his arms, and gave it two or three resounding smacks ; another one had crept to the door-sill, and this was lifted also, and its little cheek laid tender ly upon his shoulder, which was hunched up to bring it closer to that of the father. By this time the wife had brought a bowl of water and a white, coarse towel. Then she took the children down, applying also sundry pats, now on the shoulders of the little ones, and now on the broad, fatherly ones ; and while the husband gave a last rub of the hard rough hands, he stretched out his neck and kissed the pretty, girlish wife, who would be hovering near him. They said grace; they dined at the plain, wholesome board, and more than once I found myself wafting them a benediction with the tears in my eyes. It is so brutish to pass without a word of recognition of the great Giver. The husband was a grave man, and the wife a lively, cheery woman, neat as a new pin, and very chatty. I thought them wonderfully well matched, for there was no moroseness in the man nor levity in the woman. And when Sab bath came, and the little household, dress ed in all their finery, baby and all, went out to church, it was a sight to behold. Hotel Life in the. City of Mexico. Everything in the way of living is cheap in Mexico. Of course prices range higher in the capital than elsewhere, but even there the hotels, for instance, furnish ex cellent rooms at from $20 to S50 per month. At the Hotel Iturbide the rooms ard very large, and usually divided by cur tains, so as to make a parlor and a bed room. For SS0 a month you can procure one of these apartments, handsomely fur nished and efficiently attended. The scheme of the hotel extends no further. Your bath and yonr meals are outside af fairs. On the ground floor of the Hotel Iturbide is an excellent French restaurant and a very good bath-house. These are separate establishments. The price of the bath is two reals (twenty-five cents,) and at the restaurant two persons can contract for meals at 87.50 each per week. The Gran Tivoli is arranged as a park, with lovely grounds, fountains, streams, and flowers in profusion. The dining places are scattered about hero and there; Chinese pagodas, Swiss cottages, French chalets in miniature yon choose the retreat which pleases you the most. It is here that you find the great tree, on one of whose branches is a pretty little cabin, to which you ascend by a spiral stairway, if you pre fer dming so far from mother earth. 1 be lieve it will be conceded by all who have partaken of the menu of the Gran Tivoli, that a better cooked, better served, and more elegantly appointed dinner could hardly be found anywhere in the world. The cooks are of the finest Parisian schools, the wines genuine, and tho accessories fassinating. The wife of Senator Sharon, of Nevada, recently died in Washington and was buried in a coffin of solid silver. Her burial dress was of white satin with silk flounces of point lace, and was on exhibi tion prior to her funeral. Sharon has since rented Senator Stewart's residence at $18,000. The Nevada ninny hammer las done a good deal of harm. Other women will now feel that nobody cares a farthing for them if they are not laid away in the, same style, and they won't put up with any of your German silver coffins, either. For Young Women. Nearly all tho exhortations for the young which we meet with, are directed to tho young men; but A lmv( something for the voung women. ' o . "Find out what is your hardest end, and take hold of it. If vou hate to darn stock ings, don't put it off till you're wearing your last whole pair, ii you wouiu raiu er flv. as you sav, than mend gloves, mend every rip the iustant you see it. If boys are your aversion, set yonrseit to entercam inor brother Frank and his friends. If you have no fancy for housework, and it is right that you should help with it, see ii von MTITl nt. discover an interest in the chemical affinities that exist between flour and yeast." Correspondence. FOIt THE GAZETTK. Reminiscences of a Sojourn of Many Years in the Principal Empires and Kingdoms of Europe. DUMBER LXXIII.. Messrs. Editors : Now that I have rather gotten through with the late misera ble tvrants of Italy, I will tell yon about the p'et city of Italy Florence. Florence is a walled city, and has eight gates, 15, 000 houses, 125,000 inhabitants; it is divi ded by tho Arno, and has four stone bridges and one suspension bridge. Flor ence sits in a valley with the Appenmes to the east and the "Maritime Alps to the north either can be seen with ease from Florence on a clear day. Those great raoontain ridges render Florence a very disagreeable place to reside at during win ter, while in-the spring and summer the heat is scorching. I am perfectly aware that Florence is looked upon by those who know nothing about it as a healthy place. Americans and Englishmen go to Flor ence, and if they are abroad only iu the WHOLE NO. 1031 day time, they never see any signs of a funeral procession, and just outside the city walls they see a very Bmall grave yard. They do uot know "that tho mass of the people who die are taken at dead of night and thrown into a great pit some few milea from the eity, when water and lime ar thrown over them. So strangers' decide that it is very healthy. It is a very rare thing for an invalid-to live lono-er than two months in Florence. Well, the "silver" Arno that NJP.JWU lis tells us about happens to be the muddy Arno. Six months of tho vear one can wade over it at Florence with all ease. Men stand duriug that time of the year up to their knees in water, fishing. All the drainage of tho whole city falls into this little stream. Then at o'no other time of the year the river is subject to inundation. The great freshet from the melting snows causes it to rise up to the quays. .These quays are built of stone, and are vcrv strong and substantial, and look like they will last hundreds of years. One of tho most beautiful bridges in Europe is over the Arno at Florence. If there is any thing that is truly beautiful it is a fine bridge, with its splendid arches. Thia bridge, which is called the sainted Trini ity, has only threo spans, and they arej as graceful looking as any I have ever seeu. There are many who contend that there is not another such a piece of architecture to be found anywhere. There is another bridge across the Arno which also has three most beautiful arches. .This bridge which is called Vecchio, is peculiar in one respect, and that is that it has from two to five story stone houses built on each side, from one end of the bridge to the other, and has side-walks-or pavements for pedes trians. Besides tho great weight of all these houses upon the bridge, thero 19 a prodigious secret communication built over and resting upon the tops of tho houses. This secret communication takes its rise in the eastern or old part of the city, at Pal ace Pitti. It passes from the palace over the tops of houses, public and private, and when it gets to tho bridge it is constructed to pass as high over the tops of the houses on one side of this bridge as a row of two story buildings. After it has crossed the bridge it passes along on top of a very high wall which runs parallel with the river Arno, and the lower part of which, since its completion, has, been altered in such a way that it answers for residences,1 but is mostly occupied , by those who work in mo- ' saics. After the passage has left this wall it passes over the tops of the row of splen- , did granite and marble government build ings, which are situated on the right hand of the most splendid cul de sacs there is on earth. After it has passed over this cul de sac, it crosses to the left and passes over a portion of. tho splendid buildings that contain the Florence Gallery, and- from there it passes over to the Palais Vec chio; The entire length of this secret pas sage is about 1 J miles long, and was built for the benefit of the Grand Duke and his family, that, at the commencement of a revolution, they could fly from Palais Pit ti, which is in old town, to Palais Vecchio, and there make their escape. . I have giv en a full account of this private wav of escape of a German Grand Duke from his Italian slaves, as an illustration of the con stant dread of a down-trodden people in which the Grand Duke lived. The houses of Old Town are rather higher, on an average, than those of New Town, and are" much more irregular in their height, there being many six-story houses interspersed among two and three story ones. Many of these houses are built of a very dark brown stone, which remind one of the dark, brown-stone residences to be seen in New York and Philadelphia. New Town is new-looking indeed. It has many very beautiful streets and a number of squares, though most of them are small and without any kind of seats or shade treesj indeed, one can walk any distance, from one side of the city to the other, with out being able to get a seat anywhere,; for if you sit down on tho edge of the pavement yon are arrested. So your-only chance is to enter a cafe and drink coffee against your will. It is well known that tho Florentine ar chitecture is unlike any other. The most of the fine houses in New Town are built of arrich, brown stone, while others are of a white, smooth cast, with a very hard fin ish. In the most of cases the houses are of the same height, width and depth,' which renders them square. Often they are flat on top, but the prevailing style in a very low roof, with the eaves projecting from 4 to 6 feet, and a very heavy cornice with heavy, projecting brackets and pilas ters. Some of the houses are covered with slate, but they aro mostly covered with tile. All the public buildings and many of the private houses have sli utters with bare of round iron placed up and down a bout 4 inches apart, which give the houses ' the appearance of so many jails. Every church in Florence has a square in front of itj so it is easy to imagine that there are a great many squares in the city. Consid ering tho great number of squares, it is the most difficult city to pass through without getting lost that I have ever been in. I have known persons who, after a residence of twelve months, have found it difficult to pass through the city without losing them selves. It is out of the question to find any qne residing in a densely populated part of the city. The houses were all numhered, but only for the convenience of the police and the rxmfusion of the citizens. For instance, instead of beginning ut the head of a street as they do in all other cit ies, with No. 1 on the right and No. 2 on ' the left, they begin with 701, 4,941, 38, 039, and on the left 548, 9,871, 11, 7,684, and if you wish to find No. 1 you will? have to go over in Old Town in the centred of some street, while you will find No. 2. in New Town. Yotagecr.
North Carolina Gazette [1873-1880] (Fayetteville, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
Aug. 5, 1875, edition 1
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