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1 IWIBW M <r~"\-S> VIEW OF KEMHESAW AoVNTAIM • &X g> \^__ C< <✓ **■*»>- L> . g a£jf’_2<g> ■— a < ** u ' ■ ' ■** vSL——■ — f (g> '** ALLEY* 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.