The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1874-04-18

MUNRoE, Louisiana, February, 1874.
When people who live north of Mason &
! Dixon's Line speak of the South, tits
always the "Sunny South" the land of
fragrant. flowers, balmy airs and lovely
singing birds. If they come down here
they'll be apt to find it like "the land of
the Keesaquequims,
"where the roses are blooming all the year round;
Where the nightingales sing, in the iciclcs dim;
And the oranges ripen with snow on tho ground"
That is in the interior. Along the coast of
course the climate is mild; but oh. We
friends when we come South, unless We
keep within hearing of the roar of the old
ocean, bring your Winter clothes, your
blanket shawls and overcoats, your hand
muffs and foot muffs and all such comfort
able appendages, or else expect to pay the
penalty.
A few weeks since l came swiftly away
from the land of snow storms and cold
winds, of blue noses and buffalo robes into,
as l thought, the Summer Land. We came
through Virginia battle grounds, whose
Notifications may still be plainly seen; past
shot marked houses, past the ruins of what
were once happy homes; past little smiling
Yankee villages, grown up in the last few
years, within a stones throw of the forlorn
collection of domicis whose name they
often bear. The dismal tumble down old
places serve to render more cheerful and
bright the neat little groupe of houses, the
owners of which have the pictures of their
New England birthplace in their hearts.
The National Cemeteries too, within sight
almost of each other, where rest quietly
enough the bones of those who fell in NOR
tai conflict. The one neat and evidently
taken care of; the other, though paled in,
very much neglected. Poor Virginia =
Long l fear will you bear mark of the
struggle that quenched the fire of many a
heart.
On we come through Tennessee, the sun
shine glinting over its broad, beautiful
streams along whose side we Numbered,
waking the echoes far and near; now by
the Holston, now the Broad, where
THE fair tree. look over side by side
And see themselves below"
At one place immense blocks of beauti-
full colored marble standing, awaiting trans
portation; at another sharp curious noise
attracts us, and we see what few of us
have seen before; wood cut by mules in a
sort of treadmill, huge logs are sawed
through in a second of time. Evening
finds us at famed Chattanooga. A rush
for a sleeping cars, and well we know
irst come first served,' and after brief
stay we creep slowly away. IT'S too dark
to see more than the outline of Lookout
Mountain though many eager eyes peer
through the gloom at the seemingly smooth
outline seen dimly against the sky. On
we go westward through Alabama and
Mississippi TO Corlnth, and thence directly
south to Jackson where we remain a few
short hours, from midnight to morning.
A quiet little town it seems to us, but often
bustling enough.
In the morning we take the train for
Vicksburg. A few hours grace we have
here. Though so recently almost laid in
ruins, scarcely trace of the terrible siege
is to be seen, except the caves where the
inhabitants took refuge during the bonn
bardment. The Notifications are leveled,
the swords have been turned into plow-
shares, and soldiers into peaceabe tillers of
the soil. Within the city the hustle and
noise of trade is heard instead of cannon;
faces pleasant with a busy, eager look,
instead of stolid with despair or paid with
fear. Below, the bluff is lined with all
sorts of crafts, great steamers, floating
palaces some of them whose shrill whistle
isn't much like the whiz-z-z that once
broke on the ear from the bosom of the
Mississippi. We cross in the ferry boat
and take the train at the Delta for
Munroe. We go at the rate of about
twelve miles an hour, and yet we are banged
and knocked about till we are sure the
train is off the track; but it isn't and we
creep along, much of the way on trestle
work over swamps and swampy flats. We
see trees shrouded with heave festoons of
grey moss, curious plants rise above the
surface of the water, one, green, round
heavy stem which spreads out at the top
like an immense fan, shrubs covered with
bright purple tufts, looking like flowers
but which are really a small fruit not I'M
palatable. Every hour or so a little boy
comes round with bucket of water and a
tin cup, by means of which (some of the
thirsty passengers are refreshed in turn.
AT 7 P. II. we reach Munroe. No sta
ton. That was burned during the war,
but you find an omnibus with three kick
ing, plunging quadrupeds attached, into
which you bundle, will you, Mill you,
expecting every moment to be turned out
in a much less dignitied manner than was
even the hurried leap you made into it. A
few minutes jolting brings you to either of
the Hotels, and you emerge, filled with a
sense of relief that here you are at last;
neither drowned in the swamp, nor buried
| ANONYMOUSLY under the ruins of a railroad
omnibus A good nights sleep is luxury
after days of travel, and after hearty
supper, troubled with no fears for our
digestive apparatus, we gladly lay us down
! to rest on a moss mattress, though it may
not be the softest in the world.
| Munroe is a really pretty town of about
twenty-five hundred inhabitants. 1t is
composed mostly of frame houses though
there are one or two of brick. In the
the midst of a pretty grove stands the
| Court House. How much justice is here
administered deponent saith not, but in the
grove are pleasant walks and comfortable
seats, and in the Summer time flock hithel
the "lads and lasses" dressed in then
best, sometimes perhaps to listen to the
Music of the band but oftener believe t.
the music of each others voices.
! There is a pretty little Roman Catholic
| Church and parsonage, and a building