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S -X I \ / \ /} \ c -t r d r A? A ES'TS \ *K /I. \ O A-r- y\ £BM \ n X }R\ : -< MW &)9H&hL'\ /x? iv? vxwKiKSßr* aHSfcSx >«yMa&a£K\ ""x ta M ' ’T[lEßlGGEjf]HlriG ® fypij- Jize-<> <©) v f H Written for the Great Kennesaw Route Gazette. THE SIDE-TRACK. What name is that which terror pokes Beneath the nose of wicked folks, But peace’s pipe with good ones smokes? The Side-track. What looked so small that it miglt be Dandled upon a baby’s knee, And in a muss mash’d completely ? The Side-track. But what, when foiced into a fight, Seem’d to snatch all the stars of night And with them fill its foe’s eyes quite ? The Side-track. Yea, what, when blaz’d the flames of war. Spreading wild horror near and far, Smiled, and from them lit its cigar? The Side-track. What, when the wild horse gallop’d ’round, And jump’d, and kick’d, and paw’d the ground, Tamed him by rooster’s Growing’s sound? The Side-track. What, being dared to play a game Os old “rap-jacket,” to time came, And made the darer blister’d, lame ? The Side-track. Thou center of attention all, Whose frown makes those who hate thee, squall, But whose friends come when thou dost call— () Side-track ! Written for the Great Kennesaw Route Gazette. Dein Kennesaw Fast Trains. BY UNCLE ’POLLO. x Ole Mr. Fox run all de day Across de hills an’ plains, He cotch de goose, but he can’t cotch, Dem Kennesaw fast trains. Dem Kennesaw fast trains, Dey’s run by men of brains, Cotch what you kin, but you can’t cotch Dem Kennesaw fast trains. De sparrer-ha w k, he want some fun, His fly in’ shamed de crane’s ; But lawdy I right apast him run, Dem Kennesaw fast trains. Dem Kennesaw fast trains, etc. Ole coach whip snake he swear he’ll beat Each race, an’ git de gains, But dey let’ him de ve’y fust beat, Dem Kennesaw fast trains. Dem Kennesaw fast trains, etc. THE GREAT KENNESAW ROUTE GAZETTE. Brer Rabbit brag an’ prick his ears, He jump high as de canes, But down he squat when “toot!” he hears Dem Kennesaw fast trains. i Dem Kennesaw fast trains, etc. Oh! if you’re gwine, an’ gwine right fas,’ Gwine ter git dar ’fore it rains, Jes’ jump on quick, or by you’ll pass, Dem Kennesaw fas’ trains. Dem Kennesaw fast trains, etc. I They Got Their Money’s Worth. Five countrymen from Gilmer coun ty came to Dalton and wished to go from there to Rome. One of them went to the Western & Atlantic ticket office and inquired of Mr. John F. Reynolds, ticket agent, “What do you charge to Rome?” Reynolds answered, “$1.20.” The Gilmer county man then said, “Well, this is the road to Rome, isn’t it?” “Yes,” said Mr. Reynolds, “this is the road to Rome; but at that other ticket office across the way they will also sell you a ticket to Rome over then road. Our road is twenty miles long er from here to Rome; but you can go for the same money.” “What’s that?” was the response. “You’ll take us for the same money ?” “Yes,” answered Reynolds, “We’ll take you for the same money.” Turning to one of his comrades, the countryman exclaimed: “You hear that, Jim ? He says that this road is twenty miles longer to Rome than the other one, but they will take us for the same money. By Gosh, we will all of us go this way.” He Didn’t Get His Money’s Worth. An old negro got off the Western <£• Atlantic train as it rolled into the Union Depot in Atlanta, a short time ago, and was met by another, who was evidently looking for him. “What kind of a trip did you have ?” asked the Atlanta darkey. “Well, I had a tolerable easy trip; but I ain’t g’wine to ride on dis here I ° Western A Atlantic Railroad no more. Dey gits you here so quick dat you don’t get your money’s w’uff.” That was a funny comment which a Confederate officer made about Gen eral Hood’s order to General French to go to Allatoona and fill up the deep railroad cut at that point. After the engagement was over, the officer in question, after reciting the account of the fight his men had had with the Yankees, remarked, “ Fill up the railroad cut, , why, we couldn’t have fdled up that cut in a month, if there hadn’t been any Yankees there shooting at us.” From Cartersville it is only about a halfdozen miles to the Rowland Springs, which have enjoyed a famous reputa tion for their healing properties. The Western and Atlantic railroad runs more passenger trains over the same rails than any other railroad in the South. The Kennesaw Route is the quickest. Tom Bussey and Supt. Mcßae. Tom Bussey, who is the engineer of the Marietta Accommodation, of the Western and Atlantic Railroad, or the “ Little Gem Express,” as it has sometimes been termed, has been in the service of the Western and Atlantic Railroad for about twenty years. Tom was a cadet in the Georgia I Military Institute in the latter part of the war, and took a slight part in the “ unpleasantness” between the two sec tions. He, some years ago, ran one of the fast mail trains between Atlanta and Chattanooga; but finally settled down from the excitementof rapid runs and took the Marietta Accommodation; but it is to his “fast express” experi ence that we will now refer. When General Wm. Mac Rae was 1 appointed Superintendent of the Wes tern and Atlantic Railroad, some twelve or thirteen years ago, he, in a day or so, went up to Dalton. The fast ex press train, coming down from Chatta nooga, stopped at Dalton. The Gen eral concluded he would get on the engine and inspect the road from the front end of the train. Tom was oil ing up at the time, and getting through with this, stepped on his engine just be fore the time was up and saw the Gen eral boarding her on the other side. Not being acquainted with him, Tom shook his head rather decidedly and said : “ Well, sir, you have made a mistake. You can’t ride on the en gine.” The General answered, “ I merely wish to ride down to Tilton.” Tom then spoke with some more em phasis of tone ami answered, “ It’s against orders; you can’t ride on this engine, you must get back in the tram. “ But,” said the General in an ex postulatory tone, “ I only wish to ride to Tilton.” “That makes no difference,” said Tom, “ You can’t ride on this engine and you must get off.” General Mac Rae then Poked him squarely in the face and remarked, calmly, “My name is Mac Rae, I am Superintendent of this road.” Off went Tom’s hat, and the most polite bow was instantly made, with the gracious remark : “ You can ride on this engine just as far as you leant to.” White Path, Ga. Ninety miles from Atlanta, in Gil mer county, on the Marietta and North Georgia nailroad, a noted watering place, which, for many years, has been patronized when it was 75 miles from railroad, by Atlanta, Savannah, Ma con and Augusta. It is named White Path, for the old Cherokee Chief who, in 1834, accompanied John Ross to Washington. General Jackson invited him to dinner, and presented him with a silver watch, which he always kept as a precious treasure. He died at Hopkinsville, Ky. The watch was sold for a large amount of money, which was devoted to the erection of a monument over his grave. THE SPRINGS are one-half mile from the depot, and are reached by a romantic road through which a stream of crystal clear water rushes and tumbles over the rocks, forcing its way to the Ellijay river. The streams and roadways are beauti fully shad ed by mountain laurel and wild honeysuckle, while the lofty slopes are covered with mountain birch, maple, beach, chestnut, spruce and white pines. Wild flowers ami beautiful ferns greet the eye on every side. The new hotel, which is nearly completed, is situated on a lovely site above the springs. Four hundred yards in front of tlm hotel is an ab rupt mountain side, rising 300 feet, which the guests delight in climbing, to look off and see the many mountains in all directions, both in Georgia and North Carolina, and see “Old Sol” hie away for the night. Among the most noted are the Cohutta, Bald, Long Swamp, Amicalola, Talona and Sharp Top. On the very top of many of these mountains are bold springs, which are led down by the gold miners in all directions —frequently by useof troughs braced up by long poles. The streams are carried from one hillside to another through almost impassable gulches. This is the oldest gold field in Geor gia, and the largest nuggets ever found in the State were picked up within one-half mile of the hotel. The ‘‘Smal ler” nugget weighed 445 dwt. The “Spriggs,” 335; “Pinson” weighing 112 dwt., was found by a miner named Pinson, working for $1 per day, only a few weeks since, and taken to his em ployer with his other pickings, though lie was alone when he found it. Near ly every man and child in that coun try has gold to sell, picked up from the surface. * * * We predict that in two years AV bite Path will be the most noted resort in North Georgia. The altitude is i,.)00 feet abo\e the s?a, and blankets are needed every night in the year. It is only 8 miles from “Blue Ridge,” N. C.” (the summit), and ail the streams be yond the summit are filled with speck led or mountain trout. Wild tuikeys, pheasant and quail are found in coves and on the mountain sides, making it the ideal resort of the sportsman. As a family summer resort it is un equalled. Atlantians can leave here in the evening after business, and get to the springs for supper. Extremely low rates will be made by the railroad for summer visitors. (The hotel fates are only S2O per month.) The farm ers bring in chickens, butter, game and fruit in abundance at ridiculously low prices. Lumber and labor are cheap. A water power saw and plan ing mill close at hand. c For rural summer homes, White Path cannot be excelled. It is the in tention of the railroad company to make exceedingly low rates of travel to summer visitors. Trains will run so that a business man may leave At lanta at 1:30 p. m. and arrive at White Path at 6p. m. Leave White Path at 7 a. m., and be in Atlanta at 10:40 a. m. The finest farms and farming lands we know of in the State are near this line of road. People who live in sections where malaria prevails should secure a sum mer home at White Path. The hotel at White Path, by-the way, is splendidly kept by Mrs. \\ . L. Robinson, whose post office address is Ellijay, Ga. The summer resorts along the line of the Western de Atlantic are on a boom this year, beyond a doubt. Sam Jones, the evangelist, lives on the Kennesaw Route. 5