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Entered according to Act of Congress, in June, 1870, by J. W. Burke & Cos., in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the So. District ol Georgia
Vol. IV—No. 21
Written for Burke’s Weekly.
ROSIE ROSEBUD’S TRAVELS,
And What She Saw.
HOPE you children havn’t got
Wql tired of wanting to hear of what
I saw at Look-out Mountain. I
ought to have written in time for last
week’s paper, but I did not. lam not
going to take up half of my letter in
telling you the reason why. It is quite
enough for you all to know that my ex
cuse is a good one.
We reached Chattanooga a little be
fore nightfall, and stopped at a hotel
near the car-shed. We were told that
it was the best house in the place. It
may be so—l know of nothing to the
contrary; but I do know that if this is
the best hotel in Chattanooga, the oth
ers must be indifferent.
The morning after our arrival proved
to be very bright and sunny, and we
had the promise of a most delightful
visit to Look-out Mountain, which looms
up apparently so near the hotel that 1
was surprised to learn that its base was
several miles distant. We took a toler
ably comfortable carriage at the hotel,
and were soon on our way towards the
mountain. In a short time, we arrived
at the half-way house, and here a small
cabin, near a blacksmith’s shop, was
pointed out to us as the early home of
Edna Earl, the heroine of Miss Evens’
story of St. Elmo : but as I had never
read St. Elmo , I failed to appreciate
the locality. On the top of the moun
tain we found a very good hotel, called
the Look-out Mountain House, where
we left our carriage, and proceeded to
walk to Look-out Point. We could
have driven much nearer to the Point;
but the day was so pleasant we prefer
red to walk.
A walk of about a mile brought us to
Look-out Point, and although I had
heard much of the magnificent view
from that spot, I confess I was agree
ably disappointed. The whole valley
of the Tennessee lay spread out before
us —the river looking like a silver thread
as it winds its way far as the eye can
MACON, GEORGIA, NOVEMBER 19, 1870.
reach, while the grand old range of the
Blue Ridge Mountains tower above each
other in the background. I never wit
nessed so grand a display of mountain
scenery, nor ever before felt so im
pressed with my own littleness and in
significance.
We found a photograph gallery at
the Point, and papa had our pictures
taken. We sat upon the large rock that
overhangs the precipice, and which is
known as Look-out Point proper—thou
sands of feet above the trees that were
below us. I confess I felt a little un
easy, notwithstanding the assurances of
the artist that thousands of persons —
some of them in large groups —had sat
CATOOSA SPRINGS.
for their pictures on this point, and
that there was not the least danger.
We got back to the Mountain House
in time for a good dinner, which we
enjoyed all the more because of our
exercise, and the bracing mountain air.
After dinner, we visited the Leonora
Spring, which is in a side of a bluff,
near the hotel. We were obliged to go
down a great many steps—how many I
do not know, but there must be several
hundred—and I was very tired when I
got to the bottom. But we were repaid
for our trouble, for it is a lovely spot
after you reach it. The journey back
was still more trying, but we made the
trip safely, and were glad enough to
get back to the hotel, where we could
rest ourselves.
We reached Chattanooga about sun
down, very tired, but delighted with
our trip to the Mountain. We wanted
very much to go to the Blowing Spring,
but it was considerably out of our way,
and we were wearied with our trip, and
anxious to get to a resting place.
The next morning, we took the train
for Atlanta, homeward bound. I want
ed to stop at Catoosa Springs, which
are only a few miles from the railroad,
but papa said he did not know whether
they were now kept as a place of public
resort. When he visited them—some
years before the war —there was a fine
hotel, and quite a number of other
buildings there, but he did not know
now whether the hotel was standing or
not. So we went on to Atlanta, where
this letter leaves me.
Rosie Rosebud.
The rays of light beam directly on us.
No king is powerful enough to intercept
those keen, direct and swift rays. But
heat is radiated back to us fron every
side. Thus, like the light, faith should
ever be direct and inflexible ; but love,
like the heat, should radiate on all
sides, and adapt itself to the wants of
all. — Luther.
Whole No. 177.
*
* * *
*
*
THE MIDNIGHT CROSS.
IN IDYLS.
Boonsboro Gap, or South Mountain Pass.
To D. 11. Hill.
sf*
* * *
CRUCE * CI.ARIOR.
*
The writer regrets to say that the “ Leoni
das ” and ‘‘ Arthur ” of the following eight
lines has endorsed them as “high Sanscrit”
which means that he don’t understand
them! I might retort as the house of bur
gesses did to Washington, when their pro
ceedings confounded him —“Sit down, Mr.
Washington! your modesty is as illustrious
as your valor!” —but I am entirely willing
to leave it to the South whether in this in
stance, the modesty of the hero, or the ima
gination of the writer is the cause of obscur
ation !
At the Gap, D, 11. Hill and a moderate
“ round-table” of men, held the grand army
of the planet (with Lek’s dispatches on its
pommel!)
At Bay,
All Day!
While Jackson took Harper’s Ferry. This
explains the allusion to Leonidas. "Barred
by thine arm,” is from Scotch history, and
refers to Lady Douglas, who when her castle
gate was battered open, stretched her arm
through the staples ! I think her “ position”
not only illustrates the scene at the Gap, but
the “situation” of the whole Confederacy
during the whole war —a struggle of naked
nerves against “ hog in armor ! ”
The Gap.
tROUDER than Persia’s noontide,
was
The dawn that hurled yon bannered
„ mass,
The banded Orient, on the pass
Barred by thine arm, Leonidas!
But prouder still the vestal lights
Os Glory on these vigil heights—
And proudest yet the hand that writes —
Here wrestled Arthur and his Knights.
Conscience is Cod within us. It is
man's best friend, or his dreadful ene
my. It is a flame kindled in his soul,
which inwardly torments and consumes
him. It is a viper which twines itself
about his heart, and stings him in the
tenderest places. When it is obeyed,
it is a friend indeed —an inward, bosom
friend.