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summits. To the north and westward
the fertile country presents a repetition
of hills and valleys that are studded
with the beautiful farms of planters,
whose homes awhile since were busy
hives of industry, and where peaceful
sounds of pastoral life only broke on
the ear. The great red banks of the
Western and Atlantic Railroad wind
like the tortuous curvings of a huge
snake along over the surface —here on
an enormous bank, there through a
deep cut. It winds back and forth,
binding the mountains and valleys ’
with links of iron, and transports the
treasures of the caverns on the Ten
nessee on its surface for the necessities
and luxuries of a people hundreds of
miles to the southward. Away over '
.the tops of the peaked hills at Alla-'
toona, the dim outlines of the ranges
of hills along the Etowah and Oosta
naula float in the mists of the quiver
ing sunlight. We almost seem to see, '
bounding the horizon, and shutting off;
the view, the exquisitely beautiful and !
gracefully curved outline of Lookout
Mountain.
In memory we look beyond its mys
tic blue outline, and our mental vision
•wanders on over the emerald crown of
the Cumberland, across the fair fields
beyond their mountain crags and im
penetrable fastnesses, on, on, up to the
green banks of the river, and rests on
the top of one of the most beautiful
mounds in Middle Tennessee, where
sits in splendor one of the most ele
gant and magnificent houses in our
sunny land. Charmed as of old, we
sit and muse whilst we listen to the
music of voices, fresh with the en
chantment and beauty of eloquence
and fascination. But other sounds
than the lute-like tones of woman’s
voice, the exquisite strains of music
and the eloquent melody of lovers’
songs, now regale us in the camp of a
soldier in the army of the Confeder
acy.
The sparkling, glassy curves of
Noonday creek glitter in the sun’s |
rays. But to-day, instead of the fair-!
ies that once sported beneath the sil- •
ver sheen of the moon’s soft rays, ;
armed men make night hideous with i
their brawls, their hoarse challenges
.and the quick, sharp shot of their i
deadly rifles.
Off to the left, nearly in the track
of the setting sun, Pine Mountain
shows its sombre sides. Almost dark
with the perennial verdure of its foil-i
age, its cypress gloom frowns down
Jblack as a funeral pall. It mourns
‘that a deed of blood and crime was
-done on its crown. There it stands
and forever will remain a monument
for legends and history, to tell that a
«noble Christian, a gallant warrior, a
great champion and a loved man died
sin battle at the hands of our enemy.
There General Leonidas Polk, the
great Bishop, the great General, was
killed. Even our enemies cannot re
joice over the horrid deed. Our coun
try mourns his loss* History will
weave about his crosier, his sword and
his tomb, and entwine with the chap
let that crowns his memory, his many
virtues and his glorious, gallant deeds.
South of the dark mountain a black
and gloomy forest presents its inter
minable and intricate labyrinths of
trees. They are overlooked by Lost
Mountain, which stands grim and
frowning like a huge grizzly monarch
of the olden time. The very air of
antiquity seems to hang over it, and
though a wonderful curiosity, a mon
,-strous freak of nature’s fantastic hu
mor, yet it stands a forbidding senti
nel and landmark to the hundred hills
around.
South and west are the bloody
depths about New Hope Church and
Dallas. Eastward are the yet ghost-
THE GREAT KENNESAW ROUTE GAZETTE.
lier places of sepulchre about Gol
gatha, and beyond the base of Little
Kennesaw are seen the mazes of the
dark and bloody grounds where battle
has made fearful and horrid marks.
Over the whole valley surrounding
the base of Kennesaw the arts and ap
pliances of war have displaced the
, humbler work of the husbandman. In
terminable lengths of earthworks and
forts, parallels and approaches, de
fences and advance lines, batteries and
muskets and warrior foes cover the
' land. Thousands of white spots de
clare the tented field. The deep
mouthed bellowing of brazen cannon, ;
the chopping sound of the picket shots, ;
volleys of opposing musketry, shouts
’ of infuriated men, the yells of advanc- i
j ing foes, the neighing of the war
steeds, the bray of mules, the shrill
blasts of trumpets, the roars of mimic
i thunder, answering the furious bursts
l of the battle storm, the charge, the
j broken retreat, the cheer of the vic
tors —all echo up to our perch on the
summit of the giant that sits serene
where no political tempest, no national
convulsion or continental earthquake
can shake its philosophic calm or its
A " a
A?
/
I ' <?W!Ba«r ‘~ r
" ’ 1 —* . —... ||r
THE RIFLE-PITS BEFORE KENNESAW.
granite foundation. The smoke of
battle rises thick and in foetid vol
umes. Hundreds of souls, the manes
of the dead, are floating to the skies
on that sulphurous vapor, and its in
cense arises from those battle-field al
tars of sacrifice, and the sun hides its
face behind the white cloud, but tints
i the attenuated sheet with gorgeous col
: ors. Deep brown and red edges shade
the purple mists, and faint patches of
blue open like gateways to the fair and
glorious heaven beyond.
The battle still rages and roars its
puny thunder-strokes against the bat
tlement that stretches its rocky crest
far up into God’s own bright sky. A
violet glory rests over the western hor
izon. Dim stretches of gold radiate
from the far-off mountains to the
o’erarching zenith, crimson spots paint
and mottle the dim sapphire glow that
casts its glorious mantle over the earth.
The gorgeous scene slowly faints aWay
beneath the sun’s dying rays. ’Tis
i sunset.
Twilight comes on apace, and night.
Then the moon glides up the sky and
[ over the mountain, and looks down on
■ a scene of blood, where proud mortals
cast the lives and pride of a province
away. It coldly frowns on theMbattle
field. It sadly smiles on Kennesaw.
The Rifle-Pits Jtfore Kennesaw.
From “ The Mountain Campaigns in
Georgia, or War Scenes on the W. &
A.,” we clip the following extract, re
ferring to the skirmish fighting before
Kennesaw Mountain during the
month of June, 1864:
During this same period, also, there was
daily skirmishing between the two armies
from one end of the line to the other, and,
while the sun shone, there was scarcely an
hour in which one could not hear the inces
sant “ pop,” “ pop ” of musketry, from the
rifle pits which dotted the hillsides and
woody valleys, or from behind the trees,
fences or any species of cover which the
combatants could secure. This frequently
lasted until far into the night, when the con
tinuous flashes of light in the forest simu
lated the appearance of myriads of fire
Hies. The losses by both armies from this
species of warfare were heavier than in the
main engagements.
The tourists who stop over at Mari
etta, the beautiful “Gem City of 1
Georgia,” which lies only two miles
south of Kennesaw Mountain, can, to
this day, by going to the north side of
the mountain, discover upon the hills
and in the valleys the lines of en
trenchments and the rifle pits, which
respectively seamed and dotted the
country on both sides of the Western
and Atlantic Railroad; north and east
of Kennesaw Mountain, and also in
the forests southwest of it.
General Sherman well said, in his i
dispatch to General Halleck, dated ;
June 23d, 1864:
The whole country is one vast fort, and
Johnston must have at least fifty miles of
connected trenches with abatis and finished
batteries. " w Our lines are now
inclose contact, and the fighting is incessant,
with a good deal of artillery fire. As fast
as we gain one position the enemy has an
other all ready, but I think he will soon
have to let go Kennesaw', which is the key
to the whole country.
From the crest of Kennesaw Moun
tain, the Confederates could observe
not only their own lines of entrench
ments and Sherman’s lines fronting
them, but they could also have a view
over the skirmishers of both armies,
who apparently with a daring love of ad
venture, scattered through the forests
and burrowed in the ground, and, at
irregular intervals, the one side some
times approaching almost within stone’s
throw of the other. Occasionally the
thick forests and undergrowth would
conceal the rifleman from the eyes of
those who looked down from above up
on him ; but soon a puff of blue smoke,
rising out of the thicket, would betray
the proximity of his location, and full
many a hero of the blue or gray re
ceived his death wound, either in the
entrenchments or in the forest, from
the sure aim of the daring occupant of
some rifle pit.
Easy and pleasing lesson in punctu
ation : “ Dear aunt, I should cer
tainly have been with you had I been
well; even now I am in great pain
while I write with my nose.”
January invariably fills our hotels
with a new people on their way to
Florida. They may be seen on any
sunny day walking or riding through
our streets, with keen eyes for every
thing of an odd or unusual nature.
All such things are, by these travel
ers, set down of course as regular in
cidents of southern life. If they see
a mule and a steer hitched together,
drawing a poor little load of wood,
guided by a cotton or hemp cord, they
forthwith mentally declare the entire
concern a type of southern enterprise.
But such remarks are harmless; and
the weak, thin voiced man with “ a
throat trouble,” and his bouncing,
blooming companion of twice his
weight, go along complacently, getting
from the surroundings all the comfort
they can. We wish them God speed.
A Socialist Plot: First socialist—
“ Le’s burn suthin.” Second socialist
“ All right. Ha’ ye got a cigar about
ye ? I’ve a match.”
