Arizona republican., 1892-01-07


 erally espoused the cause of the pope and national independence, the latter the cause of the German emperor and feudalism), they were equally unjust, rapacious, faithless, barbarous, and ravaged Italy for 400 years, their fren- zied conflicts terminating at last through mutual exhaustion. No wonder the Italians had no patriotism until within this generation. They never had any understanding of country; their city province or duchy alone appealed to them.
 Nothing inspires more hatred of the Estes than the conduct of Nicholas III, one of the most tyrannical of his race. He and his predecessors occupied the Castle, as 1t is now called, standing in the center of the town, and one of it's largest and most conspicuous buildings. Formerly the ducal palace, it bears lit tie trace of the Este family, but is as melancholy as any edifice in Ferrara. The vast square pile looks medieval, with its meats, still containing water, and its large towers at each corner. The deepest tragedy in it's history is that of Hugo and Parisina, whose scenes of suf- fering are pointed out. These were so very vivid to me on my first visit that they long haunted me and made an in- delible impression on my mind. Byron's famous poem has ever since had new and lurid charm for me.
 l went all over the Castle. The saloon of Aurora, which poor Parisina occupied (the frescoes of Dosso Dossi are still vis- ible on the ceiling), and the dungeons at the foot of the Lions Tower, directly under the saloon, where the lovers were confined had painful allurement.
 Nicholas was, according to all accounts, a most licentious and depraved prince, ] allowing nothing to stand in the way of his desires or ambition. He, like his predecessors, patronized art and letters, and was zealous in the cause of the church, insisting on its dogmas and breaking all the commandments, as was I the custom of the rulers of that out wardly refined and inwardly barbarous age. He had nothing to commend him, even in person, his features being coarse and their expression harsh and forbid ding. He conceived a passion (such a nature could not love) for Parisina, the daughter of a powerful lord of Ferrara, which was answered by aversion. But | her father favored the suit of the duke on account of his exalted position, and compelled the girl, who was barely six teen, while the duke was past forty, | to accept him as her husband.
 Tears, entreaties, prayers were of no avail. She was forced to the loathsome nuptials, though it was known that she was enamored of Hugo, Nicholas nat ural son, not far from her own age | handsome, chivalrous, fearless, who was regarded as the flower of the court, and who had already won fame as a soldier and scholar. The two had exchanged VOWS and had hoped to be married. But Nicholas was necessarily opposed. He seems to have hated his son, for he was continually hearing his praises, and probably felt the hostility that base soul feels for noble one. He was united to Parisina, who at the altar looked more dead than alive, and who needed to be supported by her attendants that she might go through the ceremony. No sooner had her husband gained her than he sought vulgar intrigues, as was his wont, and appeared solicitous to throw her in the way of Hugo They found themselves much together; they were unhappy in their destiny, yet happy in each other. They were very young, very ardent, and Nature, combining with op- portunity, drove them on their fate.
 They were watched by Zoese, crea- turs and servant of the tyrant husband, and exposed. There was no doubt of their guilt; they confessed it, and braved the worst. Some associates of Nicholas thought that he might spare them, re- membering all the extenuating circum- stances They knew him not What had happened he should have antici- pated, but he was mad for revenge. They were sentenced to the block, and had not the wretched comfort of dying together. They were confined in sepa- rate dungeons, and refused the single in- terview for which they implored. She was informed that she should die on certain day, but not by what method. She fancied that shs would be thrown into pit and covered with earth. When she was led forth she asked when she would come to the fatal spot. She was told that she would be beheaded in the courtyard. Inquiring after Hugo, she learned that he was dead, and bursting into tears begged to be dispatched at once. Arriving at the block, she barred her lovely neck with her own hands, wrapped her mantle about her head, and murmuring Hugo" submitted without 6 tremor to the fatal stroke.
 When night came l walked around the Castle-it is opposite the hotel-and fancied I could hear the signs and moans of the separated lovers; that I could catch glimpses of their pale faces through the dark. Iwent to bed late and dreamed of them; dreamed that I had liberated them from their dungeon and sent them rejoicing to Florence, where they would be safe, Then I met the hideous prince, frowning and furious with bafied rage. laughed in mockery and triumph, and awoke to see the sun pouring in at my window.
 The dream, in double sense, was over. 1 looked out, and Ferrara was for the moment its modern self, shrunken and prosaic.
 JUNIUs HENRI BROWNE.
 Wanted the "Ghost" to Walk.
 "I was up all last night washing for the theater folks" said my old colored