Newspaper Page Text
Entered according to Act of Congress, in June, 1870, by J. W. Burkr & Cos., in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the So. District of Georgia
Vol. IV—No. 18
Written for Burke’s Weekly.
ROSIE ROSEBUD’S TRAVELS,
And What She Saw,
U®
bfiL TOLD you in my last of my
visit to Cedar Town, and of
H the fine limestone spring there.
This is a limestone region, and there
are many beautiful springs in the neigh
borhood of Rome. Some of the finest
are at Cave Spring, which is only a
short ride from Rome, on the cars of
the Selma, Rome and Dalton Railway.
Mrs. Ford lives at Cave Spring, and
the Deaf and Dumb Asylum is located
there. There is a beautiful cave there,
from which the place takes its name,
and there are several springs that are
large enough to run a mill.
Col. Pickett, who wrote a “History
of Alabama,” believes that Rome occu
pies the site of the ancient Indian town
of Chiaha, where the Spanish explorer,
De Soto, took up his quarters in 1540 —
three hundred and thirty years ago. In
an old account of De Soto’s travels,
written by a Portuguese gentleman—
who claims to have been with the Span
ish traveller —and translated into Eng
lish and published in 1609, an account
of Chiaha, and of De Soto’s visit, is
given, which older heads than mine
have declared proves beyond contro
versy that the present Rome is on the
same spot once occupied by the Indian
town. I have no opinion on the subject
myself, and only tell you little folks
what I have heard. The truth is, Ido
not consider it a matter of much impor
tance, anyhow.
We left Rome on Wednesday morn
ing, for Chattanooga and Look - out
Mountain. A little girl got on the train
at Rome, who was going to see her
gi’andmother at Dalton. I knew she
had never seen a railroad or been on
the cars in her life, for she was just as
fidgety and scared as she could be. Her
father brought her from the country, in
a wagon drawn by two oxen, and she
had on a homespun dress. But it was
nice and clean, and she looked like a
nice little girl. Just before the train
MACON, GEORGIA, OCTOBER 29, 1870.
started, the engine blew its whistle,
and you just ought to have seen how
that little girl did jump! Poor little
thing, she was so frightened that I saw
she was most ready to cry, and as the
train started directly afterwards, and
she was all alone, I asked mamma to
let me go over and sit by her.
When I first sat down on the seat by
her, she seemed to be afraid of me,
and shrunk up close to the window of
the car. But I said, as kindly as I
could :
“ Good morning, little girl, where are
you going to ? ”
“ I’m gwine to Dalton, tc see my
granny,” she answered.
THE TUNNEL ON THE STATE ROAD.
“And where do you live, when you
are at home?” I asked.
“I lives at Punkin Pile,” she re
plied.
I could scarcely keep from laughing,
the name sounded so funny, and I was
really no wiser than before, for I hadn’t
the least idea where Punkin Pile was ;
but I found out afterwards that it is
the name of a post-office in Chattooga
County. However, I had a long talk
with the little girl, and found out that
her name was Sarepta Ann Jones ; that
she had never been to Rome before, or
seen a railroad until the morning I met
her, and that she was going to Dalton to
spend a month with her grandmother.
I noticed two boys on a seat a little
way in front of us, who behaved very
badly. They were dressed like city
boys, and seemed to think a good deal
of themselves, and that my little friend
from the country was fair game for
them. They would look back at her,
and then at one another and laugh, and
I saw that little Sarepta noticed and
felt it, for, though she was unused to
the ways of the world, she was a girl of
good sense. Every now and then, I
gave these two boys such a look that I
thought they would take the hint and be
have themselves, but it seemed to make
them worse. At last I got out of pa
tience, and leaned over and said to them:
“See here, little boys, if you don’t
behave better, I shall ask the conductor
to put you in another car.”
After that they behaved very well,
until we reached Kingston, and there
we left them, for I think they were
going to Atlanta, while we took the up
train.
Nothing special happened before we
arrived at Dalton, where my little friend
found her grandmother waiting for her.
The old lady seemed delighted to see her
granddaughter, and Sarepta seemed to
be just as glad to see her “ granny,” as
she called her—and such a hugging and
kissing you never saw. I thought she
had forgotten all about poor me ; but,
Whole No. 174.
bless your heart, she hadn’t done any
thing of the kind ; for in a minute or
two, she brought her grandmother up
to the side of the car, where I sat look
ing out of the window, and said:
“ Granny, here’s a little gal that was
monsous good to me as we come along;
and I do believe I should a got skeered
to death at that critter thar, if it hadn’t
a been for her.”
“Bless your pretty eyes, honey,”
said the old lady, shaking hands with
me, “ the Lord will bless you for bein’
kind to my little granddaughter. Seems
to me,” she continued, “that He’s pow
erful good to us all anyhow—a heap bet
ter than we deserves. 1 knowed, when
I writ for Sarepty to come and see me,
that she would find somebody on the
way to take kere of her. And now,
honey, if you ever stops in Dalton, I’ll
be main glad to see you, and do as
much for you as you’ve done for Sa
repty.”
Just then, the whistle blew, and the
old lady thrust a large red apple into
my hand, as the train started. I’m so
glad I was kind to Sarepta, for you see
it made two hearts glad, to say nothing
of my own.
In a little while after leaving Dalton,
we passed through the tunnel. I tell
you, it is dark. One man on the train
said the darkness was “so thick you
could cut it with a knife;” but it was
no such thing. The train rushes from
the bright light into the darkness so
suddenly, however, and the contrast is
so great, that it startles one, even if
you are looking out for it, as I was.
One little baby, that was near me, got
terribly frightened, and began to cry ;
and an old gentleman, who was busy
reading a newspaper, gave such a jump
that his spectacles fell off of his nose.
But we soon got through the tunnel into
daylight again, and were all glad of it.
I must tell you about Chattanooga
and Look-out Mountain in my next let
ter. So, good-bye. Rosie Rosebud.
There is only one thing worse than
ignorance, and that is conceit. Os all
intractable fools, an overwise man is
the worst.