Our daily fare. (Philadelphia, Pa.) 1864-1865, June 18, 1864, Image 4

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

    From this point there is a fine view of the
cave, which presents the illusive appearance
of being an extended cavern or subterranean
passage underlying the whole mountain. The
music of the trickling water falls pleasantly
on the ear, and the lights, seen in the distance,
lend enchantment to the view. The second
section of the central figure is a faithful re
presentation of a white-pine forest, the profile
of the ground or side of the hill being in
strict congruity with the trees and vegetation.
The third section is a scene in Norway. A
belt of dark green native forest trees, with
occasional patches of grass, where the deer
browse, give variety and relief to the scenery.
The fourth section is an elaborately cultivated
French garden. A parterre, with flowers, sec
tions of turf, statuary, vases, all the choice
productions from every clime, fountains, the
whole crowned with a splendid specimen of
the Agave Americana. This is a fair illustra
tion of what landscape gardeners would term
an irregular taste, but producing, by great
profusion and variety, a charming effect. The
fifth is an exhibition of an iron and coal
mountain. Rough sandstone formation, slate,
coal and iron ore, with laurel and hemlock,
are its particular features.
The design in this instance is forcibly car
ried out. The last section is intended to con
vey a topographical appearance of a hemlock
rogion. Broken shade, tumbling debris and
decaying matter, fully continue the harmony
of the natural proportions. Surmounting the
central picture there is a rustic summer house,
which is reached by winding steps, formed
out of the projecting rocks.
There are no less than thirty light “ booths”
or halls in the Pittsburgh Fair, each filled
with articles of utility and beauty. In the
Curiosity Shop, and the Mechanical Depart
ment, there is much not only to interest and
to instruct, but also to excite the admiration
and sympathy of those who have been steadily
working from the begining for the relief of
those who are fighting in our stead.
The pecuniary result of the patriotic effort
of our Pittsburgh colleagues is, of course, not
yet known, but the indications are ample that
it will be highly creditable.
Buzzard's Roost, May, 1804.
On the march from Stevenson, Alabama, to
Bridgeport, in September, 18G3, the wagon
trains passed by way of a pontoon bridge
across the Tennessee, while we forded the
stream several miles above. The ford was the
deepest we had ever seen, our horses swim
ming for many yards, while we sat like mon
keys on the saddles, with our legs curled under
us. Now and then a plunge, and a volley of
not very suppressed execrations, told of a
drenched soldier and dripping baggage, lost
frying-pans or escaped housewives. Tired
and wet, we encamped for the night at Cave
Springs, at the foot of Raccoon Mountain, a
spur of the since famous Lookout. The next
morning a party of us set out to explore Hill’s
Cave, which was discovered last spring, and
might pass for the original of Cudjo’s Cave,
Otjb ID A. I LIT Pabe.
did it not labor under the disadvantage of
being some miles south of that classic rendez
vous. Provided with torches, we descended
into the habitation of the gnomes, and paused
in the gothic chamber, which is hung with ex
quisite draperies of stalactitic formation, upon
which the effect of the torch-light is enchant
ing. There are windows surmounted by the
gothic arch, at irregular intervals around the
room, upon whose architraves the newly form
ing stalagmites look like pale roses blooming,
silent blossoms, white, rigid, odorless, moist
with eternal dew. We were silent for a mo
ment after entering the room ; then Lieutenant
W. quoted:
“ Deep in tho earth,
Lies the land of the gnomes;
In that country
Are neither stars nor meadows;
Moonlight and starlight
Shine not upon them.
Birds do not sing there;
Barley does not grow there;
Bees and hies
Saw I never there.
They see no clouds,
Yet sometimes rain
Falleth upon them
Down through tho rocks.
But it is very light
In the land of tho gnomes,
For they have bright stones
Which Hash in tho dark
Like the eyes
Of an angry wolf;
So the house is lighted.”
The echoes of his voice died away slowly,
and as we listened for the answering song of
the Melusina of this cave, the light of coming
torches shed its thousand hues upon the walls
of a distant passage. Each crystal burned like
diamonds as the lights came near, and a loud
hallo! was answered by our own. Away
rolled the voices into the “ white darkness” of
the unexplored cavern, and out trooped a little
party with our dear old General Rosecrans at
its head. They had been lost in these cata
combs for nearly an hour, and their bronzed
faces had already begun to reflect the pallor of
the surrounding walls. Happily we had not
lost our clue, and piloted to the upper end the
man who then held the key of Tennessee in his
strong grasp. Returning, we passed through
the Spring Chamber, in which was a fluted
column (stalagmitic) 15 feet high, and about 4
in diameter, very symmetrical in its proportions.
Further on is the bar room, in which is a bar,
and one side of it an entrance into what we
called the Wine Cellars. Here, having by
strict investigation discovered the presence of
a few “hard tacks” and some cigars, we re
solved to lunch, if that may be called a lunch
which is to be followed by no dinner.
Seating ourselves upon the dwarf stalag
mites that clustered around one of larger
dimensions, we felt like immortals " sitting on
golden stools at golden tables!” Our ambrosia
was hard tack, and of nectar we only dreamed,
as “ floods of Chian ” rarely flow with an
army on “the advance.” But the flow of
soul amply atoned for the slight deficiency.
Then, perhaps for the first time, the world-old
rock vibrated to the sound of Yankee voices,
and then and there we gave a toast: “Vicks
burg and Charleston; long may their sieges
live in song and story! and may Americans
never forget Grant and Gilmore!” which was
gravely eaten in a stout “ McClellan pie.”
The bulletins had deceived us; Charleston
was not yet ours, but none the less honor to
Gilmore, and may he prove as efficient in Vir
ginia as he did before Charleston! Then
followed a song from our two Yale boys, who
had thrown away their hopes of the “ wooden
spoon,” and have since laid them down to
sleep—one under the willows of Mount Au
burn, beside quiet friends; the other on the
stony face of old Lookout, wrapped in a com
rade’s blanket, among hundreds of his power
less enemies. But no thought of death was
there as the old college song rang out, with
its air, we all know now as “Maryland, my
Maryland: ”
Lauriger Horatins, quam dixisti rerum;
Fugit Euro citius tempus edax erum;
Übi aunt, o pocula dulciora melle?
Rixae, pax et oscula rubontia pueltoef
Grescit uva molllter, et puella crcacit,
Sed poota turpiter sitiens caneacit.
Quid juvat aeternitas nominia, amare
Nisi terrae Alias licet et potare?
Then uprose a gallant captain, who had cap
tured more prisoners than any other man in
the regiment. A fearless, genial fellow, who
had proved himself such a magnet to all sol
diers that, in engagements, he is^ often sent to
the rear to rally stragglers. At the first sound
of his cheery voice, at the first sight of his
uplifted sabre, these weak fringes of the army
cluster around him as if he were their flag,
and back he rushes into the heat of the con
flict they have just fled, his little legion behind
him, echoing his shouts with all the enthusi
asm his courage has inspired in them. Now,
the captain knows about as much Latin as the
King of Dahomey —EPluribus Unum, lex talio
nis, vi et armis, veni, vidi, viei, and et tu Brute
comprising about his whole stock in the lan
“ Gentlemen,” he said, with a merry twinkle
in his eyes, “ I rise to a point of—eloquence.
Allow me to propose that the soul-inspiring
song we have just heard under circumstances
of such peculiar interest, be sung in the ver
nacular for the benefit of the illiterati who
may be present. I offer you a translation,
whose crowning merit is that it is purely lite
ral, and as it was written by a friend some
years ago, I may mention that it is an im
Hurras greeted the proposition, and the fol
lowing was given:
Laurel-crowned Horatlus, listen to my story,
Time flies by on eager wing—with it war and glory.
Soon will come, 0, brothers, door! lips of sweetest honey,
Peoco and kisses, blushing girls—yes, and piles of money,
Grapes are growing home for us, maiden’s love is near us,
White-haired poets sing our deeds, country’s love must
cheer us;
Soon will come, 0, brothers, dear! lips of sweetest honey,
Peace and kisses, blushing girls—yes, and piles of money*