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Vol. V.
We Have Lived and Loved
Together.
BY CHARLES JEFFERYS.
We have lived and loved together
Thro’ many changing years,
We have shar’d each other’s gladness,
And wept each other’s tears.
I have never known a sorrow
That was long unsoothed by thee,
For thy smile can make a summer
Where darkness else would be.
Like the leaves that fall around us,
In autumn’s fading hours;
And the traitor smiles that darken
When the cloud of sorrow lowers,
And tho’ many such we’re known love,
Too prone alas to range,
We both can speak of one, love,
Whom time could never change.
And let us hope the future,
As the past has been, will be,
I will share with thee thy sorrows,
And thou thy joys with me.
General P. R. Cleburne.
The following extract from a letter
written by one of General P. R. Cle
burne’s relatives, who modestly re
quested that his name be not used in
print, is of such general interest that
we publish it:
.* * * “I am a cousin of Gen
eral Cleburne’s but I never met him
but once, in Helena, Ark., in 1857.
I have however always had a great ad
miration for his rugged, truthfid nature,
and his wholesome hatred of shams.
His mother (who was a Ronayne of
Annebrook, from whom he doubtless
derived most of his sterling quali ies)
was a woman of strong, independent
character, a radical in politics, a de
fender of the oppressed, a friend to
liberty and equality, —indeed a true
descendent of her ancestor, Maurice
Ronayne, who wrung from one of the
Edwards, “a charter of the rights of
Englishmen,” in Ireland in the four
teenth century. Perhaps the general
inherited this very spirit in his loyal
attachment to the Southern cause, and
his sympathy with the Irish nation.
I do not think the general was on
the best of terms with his family, —his
ways were not their ways, —he was lib
eral, they conservative; and he never
liked the somewhat doubtful position
of his eldest brother toward the South,
to which General Hardee alludes in
his appendix to Maguire’s “Irish in
America,” page 652.
It is a great pity that Mr. Jose >h
M. Brown, or some one very well
versed in Cleburne’s military career,
does not write a full history of the
man who elicited such high encomium
from Lee. I think the late Colonel
Claiborne told me that Capt. Buck, or
A humorous dare-devil—the very man to suit my ■purpose. —— Bulwkh.
“ SENATOR BROWNS BIRTHDAY” NUMBER.
some Southern officer, had in view a
volume entitled, “The Life and Ser
vices of Major-General Patrick Ron
ayne Cleburne, C. S. A., the Stone
wall of the Western Army.”
Do you know anything of the work,
or if it was ever published? If you
should hear of anyone undertaking
the task, I wish you would advise me,
that I might contribute any items of
interest I might possess about your
somewhat famous general.”
Sketch
Os the Gallant Company A, Tenth South
Carolina Regiment, from an Interesting
Address by Sol. Emanuel, Esq, before
the Survivors’ Association.
I was most vividly impressed with
its discipline and courage on the
occasion of the battle of the 22d of
July, 1864, when ordered to leave
our breastworks near Atlanta, and
attack the enemy’s entrenched lines a
mile and a quarter distant in our
front. The 10 th was the right reg
iment of the brigade, with Company A
on its right, resting on the Augusta
pike, this road running at right angles
with our line of battle and that of the
enemy. At its intersection with the
latter the obstacles were the greatest
and a formidable battery swept its
approach. This regiment not having
the protection affored the greater part
of the line by more undulating ground
partially covered by timber and under
brush, I knew how terrible the ordeal
would be and moved rapidly to the
point, just before the final rush, to
witness events for myself. Terrible as
was the fire, I beheld with admiration
and gratified pride, the steady advance
of the 10th, but conspicuous above all
ATLANTA, CA., APRIL 15, 1890.
JSSBfe
-V //
ASSISTING A COMRADE.
others was the unwavering impetus of
Company A, whose ranks presented
an unfailing target to the enemy’s fire
of artillery and rifles. Everything to
their right had succumbed to the fu
rious iron hail. There was no support
within striking distance but this did
not deter these gallant fellows. When
the brave Col. Pressley gave the order
to charge, they sprang forward with a
rush and a cheer, leaping over and into
the breastworks, when a furious hand
to hand conflict ensued, which lasted
several minutes, at the expiration of
which time they were in possession of
the works, and those of its defenders,
who were not killed, wounded or cap
tured, betook themselves to flight.
Oft-times has memory carried me
back to that summer evening, and as
often do I see that devoted regiment
of veterans facing that merciless storm,
and Company A, with shattered and
bleeding ranks, the pivot of the whole
movement. Here it was that the gal
lant Lieut. Oliver Richardson, Ser
geant Leßebour and many others lost
their lives, leaving proud and stainless
records, a legacy to friends and coun
try. Company A, or, I should say,
the Georgetown Rifle Guards, owed its
superiority (for it was the best com
pany I ever saw in the service) to the
fact that its material, in character and
intelligence, was far above the average
you meet with in like organizations,
and they possessed the faculty, so rare
among volunteers, of selecting to com
mand them, those of their number
best suited for those positions.
Think of it! You can leave Cincinnati
after breakfast and get to Atlanta be
fore bed time that day if your ticket
reads over the W. & A. R. R.
I Remember.
BY WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAEB.
I remember, I remember
How my childhood fleeted by,
The mirth of its December,
And the warmth of its July.
On my brow, love, on my brow, love,
There are no signs of care,
But my pleasures are not now, love,
What childhood’s pleasures were.
Then the bowers, then the bowers
Were as blithe as blithe could be,
And all their radiant flowers
Were coronals for me;
Gems to night, love, gems to-night, love,
Are gleaming in my hair.
But they are not half so bright, love,
As childhood’s roses were.
I was singing,—l was singing,
And my songs were idle words;
But from my heart was springing
Wild music like a bird’s.
Now T sing, love—now I sing, I love,
A fine Italian air;
But it’s not so glad a thing, love,
As childhood’s ballads were.
I was merry, I was merry,
When my little lovers came,
With a lily, or a cherry,
Or a new invented game;
Now I’ve you, love, now I’ve you, love,
To kneel before me there,
But you know you’re not so true, love,
As childhood’s lovers were.
“I want to tell you,” said a New
England tourist, “that some of your
social and political conditions do not
suit the northern people, and when
they come here to live, they will try to
change them.”
“All right,” said an Atlanta man,
“come here and live two years, and we
will talk about it.”
The New Englander looked thought
ful.
“I must admit,” he said, “that I
have been surprised and pained to find
that the northern residents here are
the very people who most strongly ad
vocate the reprehensive condition
of things which I find so objec
tionable.”
“Just so,” replied the Atlautian.
“Strange isn’t it? Come down here
and settle. We don’t care what your
present views are. In two years you
will be a stalwart champion of southern
ideas.”
The tourist hung his head, and
disappeared in a cloud of sadness and
gloom. — Atlanta Constitution.
Only via the Western & Atlantic
Railroad can you go to Elizabeth, “the
Marble City of Georgia,” where there
is the most wonderful marble-cutting
machinery in the world. Tourists will
miss it if they do not stop at Marietta
and go up to Elizabeth, only two miles
distant, immediately at the foot of the
famous Kennesaw Mountain,
NO. 8.