The Republican journal. [volume] (Belfast, Me.) 1829-current, 1915-02-04
Along Some Old World
Byways.
lcoNrrNuED FROM FACE sEvEN.1

lcoNrINUED FROM FACE sEvEN.1
hundred rooms. and Italian rooms are always
large. Money was poured out for its decora-
ton, and while most of the other palaces stand
SO near the river as to be clearly reflected in
the water, this at Stra is set in the midst of a
great park. The palace has host of prircely,
and even royal associations, through the titled
people who have visited there. The great Ma
poleon made his home here for time, and the
people still tell of how he reviewed his troops
from belvedere above the great entranceway
which opens into the palace gardens. 1t is
said that the huge gates of the central portal
have remained closed since the time of his
stay, SO that it might be forever said that his
carriage was the last to be driven through.
Napoleon 80 admired the place that he pur-
chased it, and afterward gave it to Eugene,
the son of his beloved Josephine. 1t ia now
cared for by the Italian government as a ma
tional monument. All the little villages lying
along the Brenta have authentic histories run
ming back for many hundred years. and prob
ably numbers Of the village folk are of ances-
try antedating the period of the glory of
Venice.
Tradition has it that near one of these towns
one of the battles betv cen Venice and Padua
took place, and that the Venetians won through
setting free large numbers of bees, which flew
at the Paduans and slipping under their
visors stung them into retreat! The posses
sion of the Brenta meant much to the Vene-
tians. Not only did it solve questions of health
and commerce and give them a great line of
traffic. as well as a chance for country homes
and gardens, but it also gave them the source
of supply OF strong, dark lime which resisted
the action of salt water and sea air. 1t was in
the fifteenth century that Padua was seized;
had it been earlier, we are told, the Campanile
of St. Marks would not have fallen, for it
would have been built of Paduan lime.
And here, along the river. color is the poor
mans luxury. From a gray house, blue shut
tered, there steps green gowned woman for
her little can of milk. Red, skirted, purple.
skirted, maroon wasted girls, sing, washing by
the waterside. White ducks go swimming on
green water in front of red tiled house, and
a black-hatte priest mops his brow with big
Blue handkerchief.
Of the fascinating old gardens l have no
time to speak. There are bitches thick padded
with water-lilies, and with yellow primroses
on their banks; wildernesses of roses tangles
of rosemary, beautiful old sun dials which
have long since ceased to count the sunny
hours, and priceless fountains whose waters
reflected the faces of the fairest women in the
the midnight chimes of Venice float softly
over the water, and echo, and die away, who
shall say what crowds once more fill the great
highways? Once more may gaily caparisoned
steeds "curvett" with their pre- I'D riders before
the adoring eyes of the naughty DANES Once
swing open for the passage CT the great En-
peror. And beautiful Malcontenta, who three
centuries ago had "loved not wisely but too
we'll and ate her heart out, her lessons learn
ed by now, her discomfort all gone. with the
tangled in the jewels of her hair,
GROWING her with diadem of fire, catches up
her silken skirts and with flying feet speeds
to the rose arbor, close to the great fountain,
where she first found her love, her glory and
her torture. Petrarch has found his Laura,
and Dante his Beatrice, and all the dear low
ers of that splendid past renew their vows
till, from behind the great Alpine range, is
hurled a lance of rose and orange; the SHOWS
are pink in the promise of new day, and
again the great road sleeps and dreams among
its fountains and it's roses.
out in the North Atlantic Ocean to the Scilly
Islands, and shall take you there by air ship.
These little islands, or rocks, (of which there
are about two hundred) lie off the English
coast, and the sailing point is PeEzance. near
Lands End. They lie far out in the ocean and
of course. tremendous, and this little boat new
er by any chance steams on an even keel. and
one end or the other tit never seems to mat
ter which) is plunged under water, so to avoid
such unpleas antness am taking you by air
Under us rush the tossing. angry, hungry green
waves that seem to be trying to reach up and
drag US down, and the world seems to hold
nothing but water, till far ahead stretches a
low black line. AS we rush nearer, we see the
green mountains rear higher till they seem to
have drawn the little line down into their
boiling depths. and as they recede they reveal a
very nightmare of black, ragged, cruel rocks
which seem to bar the entrance of any living
thing. Please close your eyes as we softly
settle down beyond the line of breakers, and
now. you shall open them on-Paradise For
never will you again find yourself in such a
wilderness of flowers, millions, billions of Them
In this little bit of impossible, tropical England,
st. Mary's is the principal island, and Hugh
Town is the capital. 1t is practically an I'M
known England. Rarely has an American come
here unless he was wrecked, and usually then
he has been in no condition to continue his
journey; and even to most of the English the
region is unknown. In the Scillys it is the
unexpected that one must always expect. The
people here on this. apparently. island of
desolation are MOSTLY not followers of the