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10 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.”