I found this newspaper article of interest that mentions prominent points of history that may be of interest to others researching North Carolina. I'm forwarding this to the message boards that I have contact with but as read you'll see that other counties are mentioned referring to notable persons and landmarks. Catherine O'Briant >From the Fayetteville Observer--May 11, 1859--Sketches of Eastern North Carolina During the past few weeks it has been my good fortune to visit several places interesting to myself and it may be to others. Not that as it may, having a few lasting minutes, I propose to jot down some of the scenes and incidents I have so much enjoyed. First, in point of time. While on attendance at Bladen Superior Court, I resolved to visit the remains of an old Colonial Palace at Brompton, about 4 miles above Elizabethtown. Judge Heath consented to accompany me; Dr. H. H. Robinson kindly furnished a carriage and horses, and Duncan Cromarie and Thos. Norman, Esqs, the owners of Brompton, acted as our companions and guides. The Palace was situated between the road leading from Fayetteville to Elizabetown and the Cape Fear River. On walking towards Brompton from the road, we crossed the old road, long since discontinued, but doubtless the same down which the troops of Cornwallis marched from Fayetteville to Wilmington after the Battle of Guilford Court House. We crossed the road at what I conceive to be the point where Col. Webster was last seen alive--when next seen a few miles below Elizabethtown he was dead. His remains now rest on the Bellfont Estate, formerly Waddell's, lately General McKay's, and by him devised to Bladen county.--The old road of which we began to speak is now designated as the King's road. On approaching the river, we came to the ruins of a silk-worm house erected by Gov. Gabriel Johnston for the culture of silk from the mulbery, an enterprise which it is said he first inaugurated on the Cape Fear. Leaving the ruins we crossed a ravine and came upon the ruins of Brompton Palace, and traced its foundation walls and dimensions by the brick still standing. The Palace was beautifully located so as to command a view of the Cape Fear in front and up and down the river for some distance. In its rear we found a well said to be 94 feet deep; a fact we could not determine, having neither line nor plummet along with us. This much we can say, we could not see the bottom. The well is curbed with rock, upon which grows the greenest and most luxuriant moss I ever beheld.--We looked down into the deep well, out upon the broad river, and up the ravine before mentioned, as well as up the valley of Baker's Creek, and came to the conclusion that Brompton Palace was designed to stand in one of the loveliest places North Carolina can boast. The elevation is upwards of a hundred feet from the river; the foliage is gorgeous, and the creek and ravine lead one to imagine that the spot itself is an island, inaccessible save by drawbridge or portcullis. Why Gov. Gabriel Johnston failed to complete "Brompton" must ever remain a mystery. Some say his lady preferred the banks of the Neuse and Trent, and the society of Newbern, to the banks of the Cape Fear and its solitary wilderness. After strolling about for an hour or two, and cutting several walking canes from the groves of Brompton Palace, we bade adieu to the enchanting scenery, regretting that the business of Court would not permit us to indulge ourselves over the vagaries and phantasies of the past. The week after Bladen Court, business connected with a history of Masonry in North Carolina led me to visit the Lodges which had called into existence the Grand Lodge of 1787. In my peregrinations I visited Newbern; but as seance a year has elapsed since I wrote from there, I must not again essay to do so. I found my visit to the Lodge one of much and deep interest. There I found relics of the past, things venerable for their antiquity and valuable for their worth, all of which I hope to weave into Masonic history. >From Newbern I went to Kinston, long the home of Caswell, and two miles west of which his remains repose. Through the kindness of my friend, Walter Dunn, Jr., Editor of the American Adrocate, I was enabled to ride out to the grave of Caswell, on the Desmond plantation. He is buried between his two wives, surrounded by his descendants. The white and red oaks, persimmon and cedar trees wave their branches above him; a stalwart oak grows right out of his grave, and wild palmetto bushes are springing up all around. A gentle breeze was blowing, and the setting sun bathed the evergreen pines and spring foliage in its own golden tints. The slope towards his loved Neuse is gentle with a gradual ascent in the opposite direction towards the railroad. Nature has been manificent in adorning the grave of one of North Carolina's first Governors, but to our shame be it said, neither private friendship nor public gratitude has done aught to mark the spot of his repose. There is not even a fence of any kind around Caswell's grave, and yet in his will, which I read in the County Court office, he devises two grave-yards for the benefit of his friends and relations, one at the "Hill," the other at the Red House. His first wife's maiden name was MacElwaine, his second Heritage. That night I strolled around Kinston by moonlight, and next morning, in company with Mr. Strong, looked with veneration on the old castle where the Legislature used to meet. It is now a boarding house. Nothing now remains of Caswell's town residence on the Neuse, except a maple tree, which begins to show signs of decay. From Kinston I came to Goldsborough, thence to Rocky Mount, thence to Tawborough, the town where the convention of Lodges first met in 1787 to form a Grand Lodge. From some information obtained at Tawborough, I find the convention was called to meet at Fayetteville by Union Lodge at an earlier period, but as a majority of all the Lodges in the State were not represented, the convention adjourned to meet at Tawborough. At his place I obtained invaluable documents from my antiquarian friend the Hon. H. T. Clark. Tawborough is one of the most beautiful towns I have ever seen; there is a more general display of taste and architectural beauty than in any town in North Carolina. In front of the Court House a monument is erected to the memory of Col. Louis D. Wilson, who died in Mexico, but whose remains are interred in Edgecombe, a county to which he gave, as his monument declares, the bulk of his estate. I left Tawborough sooner than I designed, and left it with regret. From Tawborough I came to Windsor, Bertie county. From Rocky Mount via Tawborough to Windsor, the road should have been familair to me, yet such are improvements in farming and buildings it was not so. It looked as if I were traveling in a strange land. Seventeen years ago I started out into the world as a Schoolmaster, and Providence cast my lot near Windson, in Bertie. As I neared the Oak Grove Academy, and beheld the building through the branches of the trees, and though of the fifty smiling faces and happy hearts, I was accustomed daily to meet, I was forebly reminded of the sentiment, "The recollection of youth is a sigh" I dismounted and looked through the window into the school-room, where for two years may voice had been law. But the children were not there; they had grown up to be men and women. Some are reflecting honor on the history of other States, whilst some have passed away-- "To the land of the leaf"-- leaving children who in many respects reminded me of their gentle and loving mothers. I spent near a week amongst my old scholars and friends, and it is set down as one of the happy weeks of my life. Whilst in the county I visited the Oaks, so long the home and now the grave of William W. Cherry, a man whom I loved at first sight, and whose memory I now revere. I saw his portrait in the parlor of my friend Joseph B. Cherry, Esq., who now resides at the Oaks. In company with my friend, P. H. Winston, Esq., I spent a day at the Fisheries. Remembering what Porte Cayon had said about the ill-favored specimens of female beauty to be found there, we were fortunate in having for our companions two of North Carolina's fairest daughters, who added much to the pleasure and enjoyments of the day, and I have no doubt enabled the gentlemen more successfully to preserve their equanimity of temper. From some misunderstanding we were compelled to row the boat two or three miles down Cachoc Creek, then some half a mile or mile down the Cashie river. He never had handled an oar; I had not in 24 years. The creek was crooked and had forks and prongs either one of which might have carried us to Cambuskenneth, for what I know. Coats off, and at it was the word. A few strokes, and the next minute the boat was floating stern foremost, amidst shouts of laughter and song. Experience is a great teacher; we leaned to row together, and soon Terrapin Point have in sight. There we saw the fishermen make four hauls, averaging about 400 herrings, 20 shad and one sturgeon. After a fish fry, we were carried in a boat some four miles to Capeheart's one of the largest fisheries on the Sound; but the herring were perverse and we did not see the quanity handed that we expected or desired. We left Capeheart's and after a sail of some seven miles reached our carriage, and by 8 or 9 o'clock reached home, tired but happy from the exhilarating scenes of the day. I left Bertie with regret. Friend W. accompanied me to Terrapin Point, where we parted--I hope to meet soon. The Court House at Windsor was built under the Colonial government, and has been but little altered. A portion of the floor is still of brick. Two of the streets are still named King and Queen streets. From Windsor I came to Terrapin Point down the Cashie on the steamer Alice after which, we went up the Roanoke to Plymouth, where I found the Curlew bound for Edenton, and as I cannot leave here for three days, i will close; promising to write something from this old colonial town. B