Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

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.