Rome, Georgia - History (part 9 of 17)

"We were presented to him, and went to the presentation primed with about a dozen pardon proclamations, and about three of his reports on the condition of Georgia. We had seriously contemplated taking a friend along to prevent the murderous onslaught, which we were afraid our outraged feelings would urge us to make upon the Accident when introduced to it. And lo! when the crisis came we found ourself basking calmly beneath his radiant countenance like a rose beneath an April sky. A clear voice saluted us with a dreamy kind of tenderness, and we found ourself exclaiming, 'Surely this man is not our enemy!'

"We looked for the famous 'sinister expression' which, according to novelists, invariably resides about the nose and eyes of a villain. But we found it not; the nose possessed a very mild curvative, and the eyes were gushing with cheery good humor. Instantly, as a last resort, we had to commence recounting his crimes, in order to protect ourself against his blandishments, and actually had to come down to the appointment of Foster Blodgett before we could sufficiently hate him to satify our Democratic conscience. How deep down and how effectually does this man hide his rascality!

"So much the more dangerous is he. No man who visits him, without about one-third of his political villainies full in view, is safe. Beware, then, of this mermaid with a siren voice - he will laugh welcome in your face, and then pardon the brute that ravished your sister. He is far more dangerous than Swayze - though the latter is his superior in force - for in the eye of the latter there is a warning that puts us upon guard.

"A child is never hurt by a poisonous toad; it is the bright serpent, with its spots of purple and gold, that charms and slays him. We do not fear the uncouth ruffian that is with hideous leer distorted, but the soft and supple gentleman scoundrel that 'can smile and smile, and play the villain still.' "

Other public officials on the Press Excursion escaped the darts of young Mr. Grady. They included Mayor Hulsey, of Atlanta, Comptroller General Madison Bell, R. L. McWhorter, speaker of the house; and Senators Smith, Candler and Nunnally.

"We hereby announce to our readers that we shall not say another word about the Press Excursion. We enjoyed it and 'developed' everything we saw, and now we are done with it. Not another remark shall we make about it. If information about it is wanted by any who may not have seen our notices as yet, we refer them to our back files."

"This excellent but sometimes imprudent newspaper makes a bold attack upon us concerning an article of ours on the Press Excursion. We would answer the charges contained therein, but we promised our readers in our last issue not to write anything more concerning the excursion. To this promise our contemporary owes its future salvation. For, were our hands not bound by that promise, we would just tear The News all to pieces! So return thanks, Brother Thompson, for your narrow escape."

"Fights, Robberies, Shooting. - A sable son of Africa was tickled by a bullet from the pistol of Col. Sam Stewart, because he struck Col. Stewart. Another African was perforated in four places, through the arm and shoulder, by a leaden messenger from Col. Stewart - cause, not known.

"A few episodical but very interesting fights took place last night among the 'boys.' No serious damage reported. Mr. C. W. Nowlin was robbed of his watch and chain Wednesday night. There were many other fights, robberies and drunks which happened around loose that we wot not of, and that deserve no mention in this paper. Verily, Rome is getting to be as nice a city as Atlanta."

Although Mr. Grady was fond of Capt. Dwinell, he chafed at the supervision over his copy and destinies in The Courier office; it is also related that he became irritated that he was not allowed to expose a petty local political ring, so we find him leaving The Courier July 31, 1870, to assume the proprietorship of the Rome Weekly Commercial. So quietly had his plans been laid that his name appeared on the masthead of The Courier as associate editor and on the masthead of The Commercial as editor on the same date.

"To the Patrons of The Courier: - By the following card it will be seen that a change has been made in the associate editorship of this paper. The relations of the paper with Mr. Grady, who now retires from The Courier to take charge of The Commercial, have been entirely pleasant and we regi-et to lose his valuable services. We wish him abundant success in his new field of labor. Col. B. F. Sawyer, for some time past editor of the Rome Daily, a gentleman of high literary reputation and considerable editorial experience, takes his place. We have no doubt The Courier will be fully sustained in its previous position as a readable newspaper."

Col. Sawyer's salutatory reads thus : "I this day assume editorial control of The Courier. It shall be my constant aim to sustain The Courier in the high position of popular favor it has heretofore enjoyed. Should I succeed in this, I shall be contented, and the patrons of The Courier can ask no more."

"To the Patrons of The Courier: Having been called to another field of labor, my connection with The Courier ceases with this issue. I will say nothing of the sadness I feel in breaking loose from the old Courier - nothing of the honest courtesy and kindness of the proprietor, who has been my friend and counsellor through thick and thin; because these things belong not to the public, nor do they interest the public. But I feel that I would be lacking in gratitude did I not express my thanks to those of you who have encouraged me with your kind words and approving patronage during this, the first year of my editorial life. Tendering you my most sincere acknowledgments, I remain, "Yours very truly, "HENRY W. GRADY."

Henry Grady and his younger brother, Will S. Grady, ran The Daily Commercial* as editor and business manager, respectively. Associated with them for part of this time was Col. J. F. Shanklin, the firm name being Grady Brothers & Shanklin. Some of Mr. Grady's best work appeared during this period. Col. Sawyer was a peppery old fellow, and he and Grady had many an epistolary interchange which old timers say came near resulting in a duel, but Mr. Grady's diplomacy turned trouble into smiles.

A free-hearted fellow was Henry Grady. He gave liberally to old negroes to get their anecdotes or stories of their lives, and traversed many an untraveled thoroughfare to obtain a glimpse of types which the average man of his sphere seldom sees in their element. He had been accustomed to everything that money could buy, hence did not deny his friends anything he could possibly bestow upon them. He was fond of candy, and so were the neighborhood children; so was the blushing bride when she finally arrived; a confectioner kept all kinds near the newspaper office, so Henry would now and then run up a bill of $15 or more.

It is noteworthy that, although he started using the nom de plume "King Hans" early in 1869, he did not obtain real authority to do so until two years later. This cognomen was a

Henry worked industriously; he could afford matrimony, or thought he could, in the fall of 1871, and so they were married, and came to the old Wood home, at the northwest corner of Broad Street and Sixth Avenue, to reside. Some say they lived first at the southeast corner of Third Avenue and East First Street, where the office of the Harbin Hospital now stands. At any rate, Henry had been "batching it" here and there, and at one time had boarded with Mrs. W. W. Watters; and his first cousin, Wm. C. Grady, Roman in the iron business, had boarded there at the same time. A Roman who had been his roommate at Athens also acted as a groomsman at his wedding - Col. Hamilton Yancey. Another Roman, Rev. George T. Goetchius, pastor of the First Presbyterian church, had been his classmate through four pleasant years.

The newspaper business is not always remunerative. The Gradys and Col. Shanklin had been publishing a paper that in that day would be called "jam-up." They had bought it in July, 1870, from Mitchell A. Nevin, who appeared to be glad to sell. Soon it was "jam-up" against the wall, so they poured it back into the jug. Mitchell A. Nevin was willing to try it again.

Just when the Gradys relinquished hold is problematical. The Atlanta Constitution recorded that on May 8, 1872, Mr. Grady represented The Commercial and Capt. Dwinell The Courier at the Press Convention in Atlanta. Col. Carey W. Styles had gone in June, 1871, to the Albany News from the editorial chair of The Constitution, and had been succeeded by Col. I. W. Avery, who later wrote an entertaining history of Georgia. On Nov. 5, 1872, The Constitution noted the sale of The Commercial by Grady Brothers & Shanklin to Nevin & Co., and a coup-d'etat by Capt. Dwinell in announcing the addition of Major Chas. H. Smith (Bill Arp) to The Courier staff. The Nov. 10, 1872, is-

*This was Rome's first daily, and it was established by M. A. Nevin. A number bearing date of Friday, June 28, 1871, with the masthead carrying the names of the Gradys as editor and business manager and Col. Shanklin as managing editor, is still in existence.

sue of the Atlanta Herald was viciously attacked by The Constitution for its "sensational New York journalism." Since Mr. Grady started The Herald soon after his removal from Rome, it is more than likely that he left the Hill City and was presiding over the destinies of the new Atlanta paper at this time.

In leaving Rome, this adventurous young journalist and budding orator managed to elude a battery of bill collectors and bailiffs by giving up his trunk. The trunk was finally released and put in storage several months; John Webb, a friend, paid the storage charges and sent Henry his trunk and "wardrobe." The wedding silver escaped, for it had gone temporarily with Mrs. Grady to the home of Dr. and Mrs. Robert Battey at the easternmost end of First Avenue. Hard lines for the young couple, just starting life's struggle, but they never gave up, and lived to speak in a philosophical and humorous vein of their early experiences.

Henry was persistently hounded by this motley pack, to the point where his friends claim he was literally run away from Rome - to make famous another town. These incidents did not embitter him; they came to him as part of the game of life, and when the years had removed from his memory the grim faces of his nemesises, he often commented on his pleasant recollections of the sublimated Seven Hills.

From the top of the editorial and oratorical perch, with the plaudits of the thousands ringing in his ears and his own image deeply graven on their hearts, it was truly a retrospective picture in a golden frame. He thought of the time when he used to scribble news notes on his cuffs, which necessitated changing shirts every day; when "Uncle Remus" came unannounced to Rome and found him riding a "flying Jenny;" when he bought a dozen pairs of scissors and set everybody in the office to clipping an article out of each copy of the paper in order not to offend a lady.

Rome reciprocated this feeling of love by sending a beautiful wreath May 24, 1921, to Atlanta to adorn his monument as orators extolled him; and Romans reciprocate it every day of their lives.

used to visit a relative, a Mrs. Ballenger, at Floyd Springs. A neighborhood story has it that on a trip across the Oostanaula after he had failed to catch any fish he had found a net full that belonged to a farmer living nearby. Going to Farmer Corntassel's house, he said, 'My friend, I have taken your fish and I want you to take my dollar. I know better than to go home without any fish.' He had great consideration for older people, and spent much time talking to decrepit darkies, from whom he received many inspirations for editorials."

"I came down from North Rome one day to pay my subscription to Mr. Grady's paper when his office was about the middle of the Hotel Forrest block on Broad. I found him standing in a stairway and I announced my intention. He looked at me hard and said: 'Mr. Rawlins, you say you came to pay a subscription?'

" 'Then I must say that you are to be commended as the first man I have met in this community who wanted to do that. I have worn out $49 worth of shoe leather calling on the others.' "

"When I was a youngster, Henry Grady used to buy two cakes of soap every now and then and take me down to the wash-hole at the foot of Fourth Avenue, Etowah River, and go in washing with me. He was chunky and a good swimmer, but not much on diving. This was the shallow place where the downtown boys used to wade across after a session of play at the Gammon home nearby. Mr. Grady also went in at Seventh Avenue on the Oostanaula. Before he married he had a room upstairs near the newspaper plant, on Broad Street in the Hotel Forrest block."

Judge Max Meyerhardt relates this: "Mr. Grady was editor, reporter and everything that his brother Will (business manager) wasn't. He wore white shirts that he changed every 24 hours because his cuffs were full of newspaper notes taken during the day. He was liberr.l, even extravagant, and did not develop much business ability in Rome; he and his bride were fond of candy, and he often owed an indulgent confectioner $15 at a time. He was literally run out of town by bailiffs serving attachments on him, and they even seized his trunk when he left for Atlanta."

J. A. Rounsaville remembers him well because of an unusual incident: "My brother Wes' and I were conducting our warehouse and grocery business when Mr. Grady came by and asked us to give him an advertisement. We told him good-naturedly that his old paper couldn't sell any more goods than we could, and that on general principles we didn't believe in advertising. He went away without saying any more about it, and the next day we were treated to a deluge of cats: every small boy in town, it seemed, brought from one to six cats, and when we asked them why they came, they said we had advertised in The Commercial. We bought a paper and found a small 'want ad' saying, 'Will pay good cash price for cats. - Rounsaville & Bro.' We sent for Mr. Grady and told him it was his duty to stop the applications. He said he could do that only by inserting a half-page ad. We replied, 'All right, but put in the center of it that we don't want any more cats!' "

"Uncle Steve" Eberhart, the slavery time darkey character who entertains thousands at the convention of Confederate Veterans and is a regular member of Floyd County Camp 368, revealed in dramatic fashion Feb. 5, 1921, at the camp meeting in the basement of the Carnegie library that he used to be Henry Grady's valet while the great orator and former Roman was a student at the University of Georgia at Athens.

When Mr. Grady's name was mentioned, "Uncle Steve" jumped to his feet, shouted and clapped his hands, hugged himself until he grunted, and then exclaimed as tears rolled down his cheeks :

"Lordy, white folks, I had the extinguished honor to dust off Mr. Grady's coat and black his shoes. He thought er whole lot of your yumble servant."

"Uncle Steve" was "in college" with the younger Ben Hill and a long list of noted men. He lived in Athens until the dispensary times, he said, and then sought a better town, so settled in Rome. In Rome he fell in with the veterans, put on a stove-pipe hat, and tucked two frying-sized chickens

"Henry and Will had some property in Athens, and Henry sent Will from Rome to sell it. Will sold it and passed through Atlanta. When he returned to Rome, Henry said, 'Well, did you sell the land?'

Romans played a leading part in Mr. Grady's funeral, Dec. 25, 1889, in Atlanta. Gen. Clement A. Evans and the Rev. J. W. Lee, former pastors of the First Methodist Church of Rome, headed the funeral procession to DeGive's Opera House, where John Temple Graves, then a Rome editor, was one of the speakers. Montgomery M. Folsom and Frank L. Stanton, Rome journalists, wrote poems to Mr. Grady's memory, and the late Rev. G. A. Nunnally, father of Judge W. J. Nunnally, and then president of Mercer University, pronounced the benediction at a memorial meeting held in Macon. - Feb. 7, 1921.

"Dear Courier: Arrived here safe. I found it storming heavily, but soon after our arrival it cleared off beautifully and at the present writing the moon finds her full face reflected from a thousand rapidly evaporating puddles that dot the streets. All will be delightful in the morning.

"The city is jammed; every profession or handicraft in the world has many and vigorous representatives here, from the editorial profession down to the profession of pickpocketical - especially the latter. The gamblers, the respectable, genteel class of gamblers, are in full force and atrociously energetic.

"In company with certain other editors, we paid a visit to a fancily furnished saloon, wherein these old gentry plied their craft. The fascination that these places are said to possess was speedily dispelled as far as your humble servant is concerned. I fol- lowed my companions from table to table; in no case did I see a single man win save those who were evidently connected with the establishment. Teaching Sunday School in the north of Patagonia may be a profitable pecuniary venture, but I feel no hesitancy in asserting that gambling is not. Among the devotees of the tables I noticed many faces that I had seen migrating through Rome about the season of our fair.

"As I did not get back here till after dark, I can report nothing interesting save the cardinal facts which have already been given you by the telegrams.

"The Georgia Press is largely represented - almost every paper in the state. Joe Brown, the fragrant; Bullock, the bewitching; McWhorter, the accident; Hampton, the chivalric; Capron, the Commissioner; and Gordon, the Governor, are in this house, and figured conspicuously in the parlor tonight.

"Men who have attended fairs for years say they never saw a larger crowd than is gathered here now. Thousands of ladies, plenty of shows. enough to eat, too much to do, and more anon.

"P. S. - The unanimous opinion is that there is a radical and shameful mismanagement of all things pertaining to said institution. The arrangements are huge, but ^ unwieldly; immense, but muddled. ... I heard a man exclaim this morning while trying to get his goods entered. *0h, if we had them Joneses from the Rome Fair we'd get things straightened out!' Sensible. A villainous storekeeper today refused to take Rome money.* What must be done with him?

"One of the prettiest and most hopeful features of the fair is that the exhibitors all show an anxiety to get their advertisements in The Courier. Success will attend such sensible men ! Rome has many representatives here. Messrs. Noble and Cohen are attracting considerable attention.

Henry Grady To General

HENRY GRADY TO GENERAL SHERMAN. - On Dec. 22, 1886, at a banquet of the New England Society at New York, at which Gen. Wm. T. Sherman sat at the speakers' table, Henry W. Grady declared : he said, 'Well, I killed as many of them as they did of me, and so I'm going to work!' A Confederate soldier returning home after defeat and roasting some corn on the roadside, said to his comrades, 'You may leave the South if you want to, but I'm going to SaTidersville, kiss my wife and raise a crop, and if the Yankees fool with me any more, I'll whip 'em again!' I want to say to Gen. Sherman, who is considered an able man in our parts, though some people think he is kind of careless about fire, that from the ashes he left us in 1864 we have built a brave and beautiful city; that somehow or other we have caught the sunshine in the bricks and mortar of our homes and have builded therein not one ignoble prejudice or memory!"** * * *

AN OLD TIMER. - Virgil A. Stewart, son of the late Samuel Stewart, Rome's first marshal before the Civil War, and grandfather of our own Capt. Henry J. Stewart, favored us with a call at the office yesterday afternoon that was greatly appreciated. Mr. Stewart was born Jan. 24, 1836, at Rome, consequently is 85 years of age and remembers more than most people around here. He is one of the two surviving members of the Rome Light Guards who went out to fight for the Confederacy in April, 1861, the other being B. James Franks, of Armuchee. Mr. Franks was a recruit, so that leaves "Virge" as the last surviving charter member.

He is a nephew of his uncle namesake, the late Virgil A. Stewart, of Lawrenceville, who under the guise of an "outlaw" joined the band of John A. Murrell and captured that notorious character at the Mississippi River in Arkansas. Murrell's gang operated through the South, as far as Florida, before the removal of the Indians to the west, and the Indians got the credit for many of their villainies. One of their hang-outs in Georgia was at Jug Tavern, now Winder, county seat of Bartow County. Murrell's capture resulted in a trial in Tennessee which pu^ him in the penitentiary for life at Nashville, and he died there. The original Virgil A. Stewart went to Mississippi before the Civil War and warned the people of a contemplated insurrection among the negroes.

Virgil A. Stewart replied that he was "thirteen." Somebody in the office remarked that he could pass for 60 easily enough, which seemed to please him greatly. He said he did it living out in the open, "catching water moccasins, eels and fish" from the rivers of Rome.

"I see by the paper," remarked Mr. Stewart, "that Judge George Harris, of the Flat Woods, thinks he can walk anybody down in a day that ain't less than 70. You can just tell him for me that if he talks much like that I'll take him up the river banks and back again in a way he won't forget!"

Mr. Stewart relates how a big crowd gathered about the year 1835 to see two Indians hung on Bi-oad Street near Ninth Avenue. Somebody that wanted to see the spectacle lugged him along, although he was only two years old. The Indians were Barney Swimmer and Terrapin, convicted of killing a pale face named Ezekiel Blatchford (or Braselton). They were strung from a piece of timber laid across two limbs, and for a long time afterward the tree bore notches to show the spot.

He was at one time, at 2 years of age, the only boy in Rome; Arthur Hood started the first newspaper, and Howard Jack and a Mr. Walker followed him; William Smith owned the first ferry, which served DeSoto, the peninsula and Hillsboro (South Rome) at the head of the Coosa, and hired William H. Adkins, Sr., to build him the first steamboat, and Matt and Overton Hitchcock to erect the first bridge, a covered affair, where the Fifth Avenue bridge now stands.

Smith owned the land where the Alfred Shorter (D. B. Hamilton) home is on the Alaljama road, and kept a crib of corn open to the poor. He built on the hill across the Alabama road from the spring nearby. John Smith, a brother, went to California during the gold epidemic and died there. Chas. Smith, another brother, moved to Cass (Bartow) county and died there.

Mr. Stewart says deer used to run wild through the woods around Rome in the thirties, and that Jim Ragan shot one near the Etowah River and the foot of Third Avenue, about the location of the John W. Maddox place, in front of the old J. A. Gammon home spot.

William Smith, and she had seen deer jump the fences while the dogs chased them. Her deer became enraged on one occasion, attacked a woman and had to be shot.

READY WIT OF THE UNDERWOODS. - Many clever stories are told of the "absolution" with which the late Judge John W. H. Underwood, Congressman from Rome before the Civil War and noted humorist and wit, dominated jury and bar. Rome lawyers of the old school like Judge Joel Branham, Judge G. A. H. Harris and Frank Copeland remember well his fine sarcasm, his rare good nature and the quickness of his intellect.

A lawyer whose client had "gone up the spout - guilty" asked Judge Underwood for a light sentence because the defendant was somewhat dull, to which the Judge replied: "Then it will take a heavy penalty to make an impression on him," and gave the man the limit.

At a meeting in Pittsburg of the Tariff Commission to which President Arthur in 1882 appointed Judge Underwood, a Mr. Butler stated that protection would increase the number of furnaces and thus reduce the price of pig iron. "Then," queried Judge Underwood, "you want a high tariff so you can sell your product at a low price?"

At another time the elder Underwood wrote to a friend: "I cheerfully recommend my son, John, for the job of Solicitor General. He has more ambition for office and fewer qualifications than any man I ever saw!"

A story is told locally which illustrates the fine sense of humor and the quick perception of Judge John W. H. Underwood. A Rome man who was in a financial tight went to Judge Underwood to obtain his endorsement.

Judge Nisbet wrote of the elder Underwood, who was the block of which the son was a chip: "Judge Underwood, the elder, was a greater wit than Sheridan, but unfortunately, he had no Boswell to write his biography or Constitution reporter to publish what he said. He was once engaged in a case, and the judge, after charging very violently against him, locked the jury up for the night and adjourned the court. After tea the Judge and Underwood were walking on the piazza of the hotel near the courthouse, and heard quite a movement of chairs and feet in the jury i-oom, at which the judge remarked, 'I believe the jury have gone to prayers.' Underwood said: 'I suspect so. Failing to get any light from your honor's charge, they are seeking it from above.' "

"When Underwood lived in Elbert, a man was abusing him roundly, and ended by saying, 'Yes, sir, and I understand you were a Federalist!' To this Judge Underwood replied : 'In those times there were but two parties in this country: - Federalists and fools. I was a Federalist and I never heard you, sir, accused of being one.' "

"Cooahullie Creek, near Dalton, was swollen from rains and Judge Underwood and other lawyers were trying to reach a courthouse on the opposite side in buggies. The Judge hauled up in front and was urged on by his companions. He answered, 'No, it is appointed unto man once to die, but it shall never be said of Wm. H. Underwood that he was drowned in Cooahullie Creek.' "

"In these prohibition times of court trials of liquor violations it may be apropos to tell of an incident that happened when Judge J. W. H. Underwood, the celebrated Georgia wit, was on the Superior Court bench. Certain temperance regulations were in existence. In the hearing of a liquor case the defendant said he sold the whisky on a doctor's prescription, which he was at the time holding in his hand. 'Let me see that paper,' said the judge. It was handed to him, and he read it aloud from the bench.

"The Tariff Commission appointed to visit the various sections of the country and report on the tariff workings came to Atlanta and sent out invitations asking any one interested to meet with them and point out unjust discriminations as they saw them. Judge J. W. H. Underwood was a member of the comrnission. When the board assembled in the convention hall of the Kimball House they were greeted by a single man, come to talk over the tariff. For two hours or more he fired question after question at the tariff experts, turned the 'evidence meeting' into a debate between himself and the board and showed those gentlemen just what the situation was in the South.

"Judge Underwood's wit was caustic at times. He once made the following statement to which many persons may agree: 'Debt and death sound very much alike, and there is but little difference between them.' "

UNDERWOOD'S FIRST FEE. - Mrs. Florence Underwood Eastman relates how her father, the late Judge Jno. W. H. Underwood, won his first "legal fee." Her grandfather. Judge Wm. H. Underwood, had been commissioned by John Ross to attend to legal matters connected with the removal of the Cherokee Indians westward. About the same time, Rev. Jno. F. Schermerhorn, of Utica, N. Y., was sent to Rome by the government as removal commissioner. A big pow-wow was held at the home of John Ridge, Cherokee Indian, at "Running Waters." Near here the Cherokees held their Green Corn dances, at which the Indians would gather from miles around, pin corn shuck aprons around their waists, and tie shells containing pebbles around their ankles and dance for hours.

Mr. Schermerhorn and Judge Wm. H. Underwood opened the meeting July 19, 1835, and were preparing for a continuation of the pow-wow at New Echota (New Town), Gordon County, north of Calhoun, where the treaty was finally to be signed (it was signed Dec. 29, 1835), and there was much "paper work" to be done. Judge Underwood and Mr. Schermerhorn pitched into the work. The Judge's son, John, was waiting nearby, watching. "Why couldn't we put the lad to

Young John caught on readily, worked all night, and next morning Mr. Schermerhorn handed him $50. "Not bad for a starter in legal business!" chuckled young Underwood, as he crammed the bill down into his jeans and ran home. - Jan. 19, 1921. * * *

"The man looks back on what the boy saw with his eager eyes before the Civil War. Among the boy's earliest recollections is a group around the old courthouse at court (East First) and Bridge Streets (Fifth Avenue), and the building itself, with its white medallions and red gables reminded him that here was a civilizing outpost in North Georgia which kept watch over the destinies of mankind.

"Down the hill from the courthouse on the west side of Broad Street was a two-story hotel known as the 'American House,' with a wide veranda across the front. The postofRce was in this building at one time.

"South of this were the stores of Sanders, Sullivan, the two Ombergs, Henry Smith and R. S. Norton. The first bi'ick store in this block was erected by Sanders, and is now occupied by a hardware house.

"This store, and the yard in its rear, was the scene of an escapade of which the boy may tell you later. It was so near a tragedy that he never divulged his knowledge of it for twenty years !

"On the corner below Norton's was Miles and Riley Johnson's, then came Wimpee's shop, and White's harness store, which stood about where Todd's gi-ocery now is. Thence it was vacant (being low and often ponded), with a bridge walk built several feet above ground to where Lanham's store stands. Here stood the 'Wells Hotel,' and in rear of this was a small frame building. Miss Lizzie Smith's school.

"Farther down Broad Street were other business houses, among them A. M. Sloan's, which stood about where W. H. Coker is now located. Thence it was low and swampy to Oostanaula and Etowah Rivers, the only building being the Rome Railroad depot, which was also used by the boats. This was located about where the Central depot now is. It was an ordinary 'up and down' frame house raised several feet upon piling. The vacant space, several acres, was the 'circus ground ' It was covered with grass and in wet seasons a pond was near the depot.

"At the foot of Broad Street the new bridge connected Rome with 'Lick Skillet hills, now South Rome. On these hills the stage driver always winded his bugle as signal for passengers and mail.

"Crossing Broad Street at the depot and coming north, the first building he remembers was the Ketcham House, on the ground now occupied by the Taylor-Norton Drug Co. Back of this was a field, and where Second Avenue now enters Broad Street was a gate thence along Broad Street was a fence to where J. J. Cohen's store stood - about where Fahy's now is. Thence to Fourth Avenue was vacant.

"The rear of Rounsaville's warehouse covers a spring, the branch from it flowed through Douglas' stable lot, crossed Broad Street, formed a 'pond' and went through a deep ravine into Oostanaula River where Third Avenue ends.

"Hardin & Smyer were on the corner of Fourth Avenue, then came Johnson & Gwyn, next was Fried's, then vacant lots to the Choice House. About 1852 Wm. Ramey established the first livery stable on the site of the present Masonic Temple. A year later Wm. C. G. Johnstone built a vehicle repository where Kay's stable is and a large brick warehouse on the present Baptist church lot.

"Wm. R. Smith's 'Continental Shop' was on the corner above the Choice House. Immediately fronting this was DeJournett's, a two-story frame structure. In the upper story of this building the first Masonic lodge was instituted. Later, under the lead of Wm. Choice, Arm. Harper, 'Billie' Ross, and others, it became 'Thespian Hall.' This was used for theatrical performances and school exhibitions. Across the years the boy can still hear the voice of Billy Hills addressing the 'Conscript Fathers.' The ringing inquiry of Cooper Nesbit, 'Why is the Forum Crowded? What means this stir in Rome?' And the eloquent Jack Hutchings assuring us that he 'came to bury Caesar, not to praise him!'

Charlie H. could again entrance us with the 'Sailor Boy's Dream/ and Dolph R. could tell us of that disastrous 'Smacking in the District School, not far away.'

"Memory fixes no residences south of Fourth Avenue and east of Second Street, except Cooley's, and one or two near the present site of the Baptist church.

"From Third Street east, to the river, and south of Fourth Avenue, nearly to Second Avenue, was the finest grove of oaks he ever saw. A few of these trees were standing near East Fourth street lately. This was known as 'The Grove,' sacred to political barbecues, and Cupid's delightful archery.

"Between Fourth and Fifth Avenues on the east side of Third Street were two residences facing west, their broad lots extending back to the Etowah river. Fronting these residences, and extending over the hill to the courthouse, was nearly all a grove of field pines. The only residences on this space were Callahan's, where the Episcopal church now is. Duke's, on southeast corner, and Wm. C. G. Johnstone's near the crest, just back of the courthouse.

"On the crest of the hill stood the academy, a long one-story, two-room brick building, its west entrance guarded by an enormjous gnarled chestnut tree. If memory is true, this academy was built by" subscription under the auspices of S. J. Stevens. While it was being erected Mr. Stevens' school was located on a mound just beyond the Shropshire residence - - all woods then - now Forrestville.

"About 1853 Mr. Stevens built an academy in the valley between the residence of Major Ross and Reece's spring. This academy was a twostory frame structure. A long stairway, built outside, gave entrance to the upper school room. This building was burned a few years later. At this school the boy first knew Dick Cothran, Button and Ike Hume, Billie Ross, Tom Berrien, Wm. Hills, Wm. Tuggle, Jack Hutchings and Cooper Nesbit, and among the small lads were George C. Douglas, son of Dr. George B. Douglas, 'Randy' Mitchell, Sam Lumpkin, Thomas Cuyler, T. J. Verdery (whose home was the old residence of Major Ridge, chief of the Cherokees, which stood, and remains on Oostanaula River above Battey's Shoals). Henry Stovall rode his pony to school from his home on the Sumnierville road, where Mr. Brown now resides - just beyond the old Asa Smith home - now Willingham's.

"The second principal at the Rome Academy was P. M. Sheibley, then a young man of fine appearance and pleasing manners. He was a finished scholar, a firm, competent teacher. His pupils owe to him more than can be expressed here. At this school the boy first knew C. M. Harper, Dolph Rounsaville, John and 'Scrap' Black, Tyler Mobley, and that fine youth who was drowned in the Oostanaula, Albert Jones.

"On the corner of Seventh Avenue stood Simpson's cabinet shop, where sash, doors and blinds were first made in Rome. West of this, on the eminence, stood the residence of R. S. Norton. What a home-maker he was, what a character builder! His sons were often welcome visitors at the homes of the boy's father and paternal grandfather. No finer gentleman ever tinted the 'grey' with the ultimate sacrifice than did Charles Norton! Two of the great marts of the Central West and the iron metropolis of the South feel the impress of R. S. Norton's character, through his living sons. His life-work was a benediction to this city! Even the flowers bloomed rapturously in tribute to his gentleness and care!

"Probably the oldest hotel in Rome stood on the corner of Eighth Avenue. It was constructed of hewn timbers, drawn shingles, split lathes and plaster. On a medallion sign, swinging over the road, was the legend, 'Travelers' Rest - John Quinn.'

"Across Broad Street, fronting 'Travelers' Rest,' was the residence of Judge Nathan Yarbrough. Nestling far back in a shaded yard on southv/est corner of Ninth Avenue was the home of Dr. Vernon, whose daughter, Helen, was the first 'belle' the boy remembers, but on the next corner above was a yardfull, where Hon. J. W. H. Underwood resided.

"North of this, extending to the brick residence of Daniel R. Mitchell, located about where John Davis now resides, was a forest of oaks and poplars, enclosing Mitchell's Pond, fit to be 'God's first temples.'

"The square as now bounded by First and Second Streets, Fifth and Sixth Avenues, was a deep ravine, then heavily wooded. On its southwest corner was the Episcopal church, on the northeast was the Methodist 'meeting house.' In the bottom of the ravine stood the old gaol, built of logs, and the windows strongly grated. Near the gaol was a spring which flowed down the ravine, across Sixth Avenue and Broad Street and into the Oostanaula.

The DeSoto chronicles describe the location of the Cherokee capital village as being on a long island - and, according to the Indian legends, the Oostanaula must have divided near Battey's Shoals, the "cut off" passing near the east foot of the Hills o'Ross across the bottom under the present Central railroad trestle to the Coosa. There are indications of this old course even now. Many changes of this nature could, and have, come in the 365 years since DeSoto passed.

That tall man walking this way is Col. Pennington; he believes in railroads and steamboats. He always carries that cane and umbrella, but never uses either.

Notice that nervous, quick moving man meeting him. He has a habit of bringing his hand to his waist, then swings it out as if to brush you aside, but Thomas Perry is a fine man "for a' that."

That portly gentleman walking up the terrace is Judge Lumpkin. He had that mansion built in 1843. He is big hearted, broad minded and deserves his great popularity. You see John Quinn has changed his sign from "Travelers' Rest" to "Cross Keys Hotel," and, you can buy ginger cakes from Mother Quinn - in the cellar.

That's Mr. Lamkin's grocery store next to the Choice House. Just below it is A. M. Lamb's candy store, adjoining Tom Perry's store, only a plank partition separates them.

That flowered silk dress designates Mrs. Sholes. She watches Jimmie's "traps" and tells on every boy she sees near them. None of the boys like her. The boys and girls do not like that fancy dressed man with her - for he trades in negroes - his name is Joseph Norris.

Look out for that short, stout, keeneyed man with the "big stick." He is the town marshal, Samuel Stewart. Ihat enormous creature following at his heels is "Wolf" - his terrible hound He never failed to catch boys who did any devilment - but once! Sometime I may tell you of that "once."

That gentleman with the Alsatian tace - who talks with his hands - is one of God's helpers in beautifying the earth. We should not forget Dr Berckmans.

You will notice that Robt. T. Mc- Cay's* hardware store is on that corner, the first hardware store in Rome. That stocky, earnest-faced man talking to McCay is an Englishman who is introducing the iron industry in Rome - Mr. Noble.

The tallest one with the smooth strong Scotch face is the "Iron King" of Georgia, Mark A. Cooper, a visitor. Next to him is Augustus R. Wright, a Congressman, a great lawyer and an impassioned forensic orator. His gifts have descended, in good measure, to his sons. The tall, clean faced man with the cane is James M. Spullock, one of the finest fingered politicians in the state. He is the man who as United States Marshal for Georgia seized the yacht "Wanderer" and sold her as a condemned "slaver." The "Wanderer" was Charles B. Lamar's private yacht - she was chartered by a party of Noi-thern men to make a cruise. She returned to Savannah loaded with African slaves, was captured, condemned and sold. Her owner, Lamar, was exonerated from all blame, but lost his yacht. The Northern men who made the cruise escaped to New York. This is the nearest the South ever became interested in "slave trade." Most of these Africans were seized and returned to their country.

That stout, jolly gentleman was later a captain under Forrest. His memory will abide principally because he was Henry W. Grady's uncle - Henry A. Gartrell.

The brown-eyed gentleman with black hair and moustache - so erect in carriage - and earnest in manner, was the first Mayor of Rome (the only public office he ever held - except the Confederate marshalship of Georgia). He was appointed Colonel of a regiment of a Partisan Rangers, but was induced to resign it and head the com- t°::L^°oTiu:^^eA V^hfAlabalrS-The Gadsden. «-Capt^_Franl. Benjannn; lO-Cap.. J. M. Elliott; 11 - The Resaca. with hunting party and Same 12 The Annie sea. All these vessels succumbed to gales, fmancial or otherwise.

pany which produced salt for the poor of the state, during- the war between the states. He is Wm. C. G. Johnstone (known familiarly as "Black Wm. Johnstone").

The last of the group, who appears so elegantly at ease, could claim distinction in science, politics and literature. He was a physician, a United States Senator, an author of note and an orator of exceptional power. During the war of 1812-15, two young men became close comrades and friends. When they parted it was agreed that their sons should bear the same names. Both were scholars and curiously they selected the names of the great poets. Time passed. Major Clem Powers, of Effingham County, named his three sons Homer, Virgil and Milton. Some years later he named his fourth son Horace.

Meantime his friend had one son born to him, and he was named Homer Virgil Milton Miller. The second wife of Wm. C. G. Johnstone was a daughter of Major Clem Powers, and her meeting with Dr. Miller is a vivid memory.

Picture - Lumpkin, Hamilton, Miller, Wright, Battey, Underwood, Smith ("Bill Arp"), Spullock, with their ladies at our hospitable board - with Gartrell to fire the train - and you can imagine how humor flowed, wit sparkled, whether the subject be politics or literature - and remember, literature was mostly the "leather-bound" classics, also that the ladies often bore the palms.

I do not say such people are not with us. But somehow I do not meet them. I may be "out of date" - but I enjoy recalling the days when honor was kept bright - a mortgage was a curiosity - and slander dared not touch a woman ! But I digress - yet I warned you that this -

Let us again go up the river. We will pass the service cottage erected by Dr. George Battey, "When you and I were young," and stop by those large trees about an hundred paces anent the old Ridge house. I hope the old trees are yet there.

The Ridge house was then occupied by Mr. Verdery, one of whose daughters married Warren Akin; another married Dr. George Battey. The family moved to Polk County, thence to Augusta, Ga.

Under these trees (near the Ridge house) was located the earliest and largest store in this section of Georgia - if not in the whole Cherokee country. It was operated in the name of George M. Lavender, Major Ridge (the chief) being a silent partner. An immense business was transacted and the owners grew very rich. The business was closed about 1837 and in the division Lavender received a large amount in money and property, estimated by some to have been more than a quarter of a million dollars. George Lavender never married. His estate passed to his sisters, one of whom married Ray, whose descendants live about Newnan and Atlanta. Another sister, Edith Lavender, resided on an eminence east of the present North Rome depot. She remained unmarried until about 1847, when a man appeared to take the contract to grade the Rome Railroad. This was Joseph Printup. He secured the contract, but had not the means to operate successfully. Edith Lavender fell in love with the enterprising stranger, married him, and her money enabled him to make his venture a success.

Joseph assisted his brother, Daniel S. Printup, through Union college, New York, and located him here, where his family remain. Major Joseph Printup had no children. Many years ago he was drowned in an insignificant branch near his home. His property, including the "Printup Ferry" estate in Gordon County, passed to the children of Daniel S. Printup.

Dr. Reece. the father of John H. and James Reece, was a delicate gentleman who was surgeon of the regiment of state troops sent here to remove the Cherokees to the banks of the Tennessee. Miles Reece, an uncle of Capt. John Reece, came to Cherokee before his brother. He became intimately conversant with legends and affairs of the Cherokees, and was an encyclopedia of Indian lore.

John Ridge, a son of Major Ridge, resided in Ricige's Valley. Chief Ridge had a handsome daughter; educated, proud and given more or less to vanity. She induced her father to order her a fine coach. It was sent from New York and created a sensation. It was hung on leather swings attached to large "C" springs, the driver's seat being on top.

annual "Green corn dance," which was held at Major Ridge's. The coach was ordered to convey Sarah to the dance. The horses were harnessed to it and the negro driver stood ready. Chief Ridge inspected the outfit, even shaking the wheels to be sure they would stand up.

Sarah came out in silks and feathers; her father assisted her to climb the folding steps, closed the steps and door, then walked around to the driver, took the reins and ordered the driver to go back to his field work. Chief Ridge then mounted one of the horses, with the gathered reins in his hands and galloped away to the "Green corn dance."

"Dear Mr. Knowles: 'Illium fuit - Illium est,' Rome was - Rome is, but it is not the same Rome we old Romans used to know. Everything is changed but the rivers and Bill Ramey and old father Norton.

"I moved to Rome in 1851, but for several years before that I used to visit there and prospect for a place to move to. I had a brother there practising medicine. It is nearly 50 years since I made my first visit. The Rome railroad was finished to Eve's Station, and the hacks met us there. There were no bridges across the rivers and the ferrying was done at the junctions. All down town was in the woods. What magnificent timber covered the bottom where down town is now!

"I went squirrel hunting there with Joe Norris. Joe was clearing the low ground for Colonel Shorter and had deadened the timber. The road from the ferry was awful. I have seen sixmule teams stall in the gulch that was where the Lumpkin block was afterward built. But you don't know where that is. It is the block opposite the Denson building. But you never heard of Denson. Well, the lowest part of the gulch was right in the middle of the street that comes down Cooley hill and crosses Broad.

lived. I went to school to his sister in Lawrenceville when I was a lad. Hollis Cooley never had a lawsuit in his life, and always declared that there was no necessity for anybody having one.

"Old father Norton said, 'But, Hollis, suppose some rascal was to come along, and knowing your mind about going to law, should lay claim to your house and lot, when then?' 'I would give up to him before I would go to law with him,' said Hollis. 'Yes, and you would play the fool,' said Norton. 'By George, I would law him till his heels flew up.'

"I was remarking about that awful pull up the little steep hill from the gulch to where Major Ayer's store was. But I forgot. The major hasn't got any store. Well, it was about opposite Morrison's livery stable, or Flemming's saddle shop, or Tom Perry's law office, or somewhere there in the middle of the road. It's bothering me awfully to locate things. Bill Ramey will show you where it was. The hill was short and steep and sticky, and I have seen strong teams stall there and the wagon cut back and nearly turn over. Norton's store was then away down town. It was right where it is now, but it was down town, the lowest down of any, and was a little, low, long, narrow, one-story house with the hind end stuck in the hill so deep that you could almost step on the roof.

"There were no houses down town. Old man Crutchfield was building the court house. The Western Bank of Georgia was doing a busting business in that office back of the Choice Hotel - that same little office on the corner as you go up the hill to the court house. Yes, it was doing a busting business, and it busted. Not long after it closed its doors I went there with $7,000 of its money and knocked at the door and demanded payment in bimetallic currency, but there was no response and nobody opened the door. I had to make the demand at the bank's last place of doing business before I could sue. But the dog was dead and my client never realized a dollar.

"By the time we moved to Rome down town was looming up. C. T. Cunningham had a big cotton warehouse on the river bank, and Rhode Hill and Bill Cox were clerking for him. The first time I ever saw Rhode he was having big fun by hiding an egg under Jack Shorter's shirt collar, and he bet Cox a dime that he couldn't find it. Cox felt all about Jack's clothes, and accidentally broke the egg, and it ran down Jack's back. But Jack got the dime and that satisfied him.

"Rhode found bigger game later on and is now a Peachtree nabob in Atlanta. Cunningham built a nice residence at the end of Howard Street. It is the Woodruff place, and Wm. E. Alexander built the Rounsaville house, and Dr. Battey built where he now lives. Alexander was Norton's partner for a while, but he moved down town and took in Colonel Shorter as a partner. Mr. Norton never moved - neither his dwelling place nor his store. He improved both, but never moved. Before I moved I bought me a very nice home over there on the hill where DeJournett and Treadaway and Omberg lived. You know where that is. No, you don't, either, you are too young to know much about anything - anything antiquated, I mean. Well, it is not far from father Norton's house, the third house from the corner as you go down towards the river. Dr. Smith, my brother, lived in the first and Nicholas Omberg in the second. Old Mother Ragan lived right in front of Norton's, and Sumter & Torbet's machine works were down in the corner of his garden.

"Jim Sumter was one of the best men I ever knew, the best mechanic, the best magistrate, the best mayor, the best alderman, the best citizen and the truest friend. He made for me a large and beautiful walnut book case. We have it now in our sitting room, and I prize it for his sake. It is the only piece of furniture the Yankees left me. It was so big they couldn't move it. They did move the books. They loved to read, but they didn't read their titles clear to my books. About that time the people who were the best off made their hom.es on the hills. Andrew M. Sloan, who was a big merchant and banker, lived in a one-story house on the hill where Hiles now lives. Dr. P. L. Turnley lived neai-by. Mr. Thomas D. Shelton lived where Shorter College stands. Rev. J. M. M. Caldwell and his wife lived and taught school in the house adjacent to the old Methodist church. Old Judge Underwood lived on the Caldwell college hill with his daughter, Mrs. Wilson. The First Baptist church was nearby, on the same hill, and the old graveyard is not far away. "I shall never forget that graveyard, for one time I was a Masonic pallbearer there, and I did not stoop low enough as we passed under some limbs of the crowded trees, and one of them took off my hat and my scratch with it, and my bald head showed no hair apparent to the crown, and excited too much levity for the solemn occasion. I put the hat on my head with much alacrity and put the wig in my pocket. I have never worn one to a funeral since, nor anywhere else. It is one of the comforts of old age that a man is not expected to have a great profusion of hair, but when he is young a very small vacancy hurts his feelings mighty bad.

"James McEntee had been keeping hotel midway of the block next above the Choice House in 1849, I think, and Colonel D. R. Mitchell acquired the Buena Vista soon after. Old Jesse Lamberth was one of the pioneers, and lived in a little house back of the Odd Fellows' hall building, but he built a better house in front afterward, and lived there for many years.

"Sam Stewart was a very notable character in those days, and had the reputation of being a cool and daring man. His brother, Virgil, helped to give Sam reputation, for it was he who ran down and caught John A. Murrell, the notorious horse thief and highway robber. Sam was city marshal for many years, and kept all evil doers in subjection. He was a good officer, but it is said that every man will sooner or later meet his match, if not his superior. One day Nicholas Omberg broke down the gate of the city pound and took his cow out and drove her home. Somebody had opened Omberg's gate and let his cow out so as to put her in the pound and get the fee for taking up stray cattle. Omberg was dreadfully mad when his wife told him about it, and, as he didn't favor the anti-cow ordinance nohow, he took the shortest way to recover his cow.

"When Stewart found what Omberg had done he got mad, too, and forthwith went to the merchant tailor to arrest him. The Norwegian never winked or quailed, but seizing an enormous pair of shears, he rushed at Stewart like a mad man and ran him out in the street. Stewart said afterward that he had either to run or kill him.

"The city council fined Omberg $50, but he carried the case to the supreme court and gained it. Nic Omberg was a very superior man, and was highly esteemed as a citizen and a Christian gentleman. About the close of the war

Miscellaneous Views Recalling Rome

Here may be seen: a 1921 group of girl High School graduates emerging from the Auditorium with their beautiful nosegays; Billy King, 9, Rome's youngest and most famous cartoonist; the Second Avenue (E. Rome) Methodist Church; views around the courthouse; a group of young players; Gay Jespersen's Lindale band; and a tiny glimpse of Rome.

some lawless scouts visited old man Quinn's house one night to rob him. The old man cried for help, and Omberg ran over to defend him and was himself shot down and killed.

"And that causes me to think of Tom Perry, at whose house poor Omberg died. Tom Perry was perhaps the best known and most beloved citizen Rome ever had. He was raised poor and hard, and had but little education. He used to haul wood with steers in the cold winter with his toes sticking out of his old shoes. He migrated from Lawrenceville to Rome before anybody, and when I first visited Rome Tom was keeping bar for a free negro, Wm. Higginbotham. Next he hired to old William R. Smith to sweep out the store and knock around. Next he got to be clerk in the postoffice for Nathan Yarbi'ough. Next he was postmaster and then a steamboat captain. Next he was elected J. P. and held that office for many years. He was the chief promoter of the Masons and Odd Fellows. He was United States commissioner. He was the best friend the widows and orphans ever had in Rome, the best chairman of the street committee. He was always at woi'k doing something for somebody. He wrote much for the Rome Courier and pasted everything he wrote in a scrapbook, and would read it on Sundays. When he had planned any public thing he would write a piece and sign it Vox Populi, and then call a meeting at the court house to put his measure through. If nobody came he called himself to the chair and acted as secretary, and passed a string of resolutions and had them published as the sense of the meeting. He never lost any space in his manuscript. If there was not room for an 'and' at the end of a line, he would divide the word and put the d at the beginning of the next line. He worked up to the full measui'e of his capacity and was everybody's friend. He looked like a Democrat, for he was pigeon-toed and loose-jointed, and chewed cheap tobacco, but he was an uncompromising Whig.

"When your good father was editing the Rome Courier, Tom gave him aid and comfort as best he could. I remember your father well. He was a courtly gentleman. His company was always welcome, for he was a good talker and never indulged in slang or vulgarity or intolerant assertions. His gold spectacles became his features and added grace to his individuality. You were not then in the land of the living where peace may be sought and pardon found. May you emulate your good father's Christian example and make the world better with your presence.

But I must not monopolize your space. It would take a book to tell of ancient Rome and the citizens who have gone to the undiscovered country. Of William R. Smith and Wm. Smith (Mrs. Dr. Battey's father) and Johnny Smith, a good man who for the love of the beautiful planted water oaks and elms around the churches and along the down town sidewalks. The trees are there yet, and men and women walk and children play under their shade. Then there was McGuire and Hardin, and Quinn, and T. S. Wood, and Isham Wood, and Cohen, and Dr. Patton, and Dr. Starr, and Dr. King, and Dr. Geo. M. Battey, who kept the drug store under the Choice House. Ramsey Alexander was a leading lawyer there when I moved to Rome. Tom came later and so did Judge Underwood. I formed a partnership with Colonel Underwood in 1852 and it continued for thirteen long and pleasant years.

"Then there appeared some lesser lights who kept the little town lively. Old Jake Herndon, for instance, the town loafer, who never lied from malice, but only from habit. He used to tell about the big freshet that came in June, 1840, and covered all the country save the top of court house hill, and how he tied his batteau to a gum tree on top of that hill, and seeing no place for the sole of his foot, he untied it and paddled to Horseleg mountain, and it was hot, devilish hot, and his thermometer rose to 240 in the shade. He always said thermoneter for thermometer. Old Jake had told that lie so often that he believed it. I think he has a son now in the United States navy. If folks do 'laugh and grow fat,' I think that big John Underwood took on his fat from his daily intercourse with old Jake Herndon.

"And there was Old Man Laub, the inimitable cuss who was created just to fill un the cracks, like spralls in a stone wall. He was a little sassy, loudmouthed rascal, who kept a bakery and cake shop, and some blind tiger and oysters, just below Dr. Battey's drug store. He had two front doors. Over one was painted "Laub's here." Over the other was painted "Laub's here, too." He drove a pair of calico ponies, and was always in a fuss with somebody, and especially with his wife. She would run him out of one front door wth a broom and he would dodge into the other. Big John's grocery was right opposite across the street, and it was a good part of his business to watch the antics of the Laub family and shake his fat sides with laughter. When I first saw Laub's name and sign I thought that Laub's was something to sell - some kind of fish like oysters or shrimps. I had no idea that it was a man's name.

"Of the notable men who moved away and still live, Dr. Miller was chief. He lived in a cottage where your new court house now stands, and his office was on Broad Street, near the McEntee house. He had a very smart cur dog named Cartouch, who laid in the piazza of the doctor's office and watched for country dogs as they came to town behind farmers' wagons. Forthwith Cartouch would run to assault him, and would whip him if he could, and hurry back before the waggoner could punish him. If the dog was too big and showed fight, Cartouch would hasten back to Dailey's house, which was next door, and get Dailey's big dog and away they both would go and jump on the country dog with irresistible violence. The doctor enjoyed it immensely, and declares to this day that dogs have a language and understand each other. Cartouch would say to Dailey's dog, 'Come and help me, come quick, there's a big country dog out here that I can't manage by myself.'

"But I will now forbear until the spirit moves me again, for I do not suppose there are a dozen men living who will enjoy these memories. This generation is moving forward, not backward.

Court houses he had erected up to that time included Trousdale County, Tenn., Benton County, Tenn., Russell County, Ky., Chattanooga, Tenn., Center, Cherokee County, Ala., Anniston, Calhoun County, Ala., LaFayette, Walker County, Ga., Gainesville, Hall County, Ga. In the same year he built the buildings near DeSoto park for the North Georgia & Alabama Exposition. Prior to that time and afterward he erected many other public buildings and residences, notably at Rome. In 1892-3 he built the Floyd County court house, one of the most substantial structures anywhere. His work and materials were of such a high order that he made little money. He died comparatively poor, but he has left buildings which for a century more will silently sing his praises. * * *

One by one they are passing away to give place to new structures, these old landmarks of Rome. When the old Bradbury house on the corner of Broad Street and Sixth Avenue was built, I don't know, certainly more than seventy years ago, such a thing as a "filling station" was not known in the wide world.

This old building has stood the storms of more than three score and ten years. About forty years ago Col. Stokes (grandfather of Misses Estelle and Addie Mitchell) came in possession of it, put the old house in repair. At that time the name "Dolly Varden" was prominent - how it originated I don't know, but the name was stamped on dry goods of every bright color. Col. Stokes had the old house painted and trimmed in bright colors, and it was called "The Dolly Varden."

Later, Mr. J. L. Bass came in possession of it and added the "L" that jutted out toward Sixth Avenue. Neither Col. Stokes nor Mr. Bass ever lived in this house. All these years it has been occupied by tenants. The passing of this old Bradbury house brings to mind other localities of homes now passed into the "yesterdays" of Rome. Just across Broad Street from the Bradbury house, where the Auditorium now stands, lived Dr. King (I think his name was Joshua), a dentist and medical practitioner combined.

The west corner of Broad Street and Seventh Avenue, where a "filling station" has been recently built, was once the home of a Mrs. Mitchell. I think she was a dressmaker.

Northwest corner of Seventh Avenue and Broad Street, part of the R. S. Norton lot, once stood a large furniture factory operated by Mr. Sumter. Mr. Sumter made everything from a pin-tray to a coffin. He was also an undertaker. Made the coffin and buried the people. Coming back down Broad Street where there is another "fililng station" southwest corner Sixth Avenue and Broad Street, stood the home of Mrs. Pierson; later, Col. W. S. Cothran, also Dr. J. B. Underwood and until a few years ago occupied by Mrs. Isham J. Wood. Mr. Waring Best's garage is where Col. Thomas Alexander lived right after the Civil war. On the enclosed lot adjoining the Best garage stood the old McEntee House - the first hotel in Rome. Several years ago this old building was sold to Dr. Robert Battey, who converted it into a hospital and it was known as the Martha Battey Hospital. I think the property is now owned by the Kuttner Realty Company. The old Buena Vista is yet fresh in our minds. This at one time was the leading hotel in Rome, with Mrs. Choice proprietress. The Curtis Undertaking Company (colored) occupies the oldest brick building in Rome. I have been told that the oldest wooden house in Rome is the corner of Fifth Avenue and East Second Street, now occupied by Mr. Ward. Probably Misses Omberg on West First Street are the only residents who occupy their ancestral home of ante-bellum days. The Spullock home on Broad Street, now occupied by Dr. Shamblin, was built about 1857. Judge D. M. Hood's home, adjoining the Spullocks, has been moved nearer Broad Street, the lot divided and a bungalow built. Col. A. T. Hardin also lived here.

Judge J. W. H. Underwood's old home has passed into stranger hands - the house raised, and the homes of Dr. McKoy and Mr. J. M. Lay have been built.

Where Joe Jenkins and Mr. McKew now live was Judge Underwood's garden. Mr. Max Meyerhardt lives on the Quinn lot. The Quinn property was divided into building lots after Mr. Quinn's death and sold. Linton Vandiver, Mr. Keith and Mr. Berry have homes on what was once the Quinn garden. The large brick house now occupied by R. L. Morris was built by Mr. Crutchfield and given to his daughter, Mrs. J. H. Lumpkin, as a bridal present in the early forties. The homes of Mr. A. S. Burney and Mr. Fuller occupy the site of the Cherokee Female Institute, built and managed by Col. Simpson Fouche. Later this building passed into the possession of the Presbyterian church, and was known as the Rome Female College with Rev. and Mrs. J. M. M. Caldwell as president and dean. After the suspension of the college, Dr. J. B. S. Holmes converted it into a sanitarium. The building was burned and the property divided into lots and sold for residences.

The First Baptist church, organized in 1835, yet stands on the corner of Eighth Avenue and West Fifth Street and is now an apartment house owned by Mrs. Griffin. My own home, 601 East First Street, was the cradle of the first newspaper published in Rome - Samuel Jack, editor and printer. It was called the Rome Enterprise. This item was given me by Miss Amanda Jack, a daughter of Mr. Samuel Jack. My home was also the Methodist parsonage before the Civil War. In 1906 the old house went down in ashes and I had it rebuilt on practically the same foundation. My husband purchased it from the estate of Mr. Mc- Guire about thirty years ago. There are yet many old homes in Rome of historical interest. Col. Alfred Shorter, Daniel R. Mitchell, C. M. Pennington, Major Ayer and other prominent men did much in laying the foundation on which Rome now stands. Some of the statements herein given were told me by my father, Wesley Shropshire, Sr., and my uncle, Monroe Shropshire, both of whom came to Rome in 1835. Other items are from my own observations, for I have been in" touch with this city for 71 years.

"GRANDMA GEORGY" RECALLS STAR BOARDERS. - "Thank you very much. Judge Branham, for a copy of 'Sketches and Reminiscences of the Rome Bar,' compiled by yourself. After reading it with the aid of a reading-glass a reminiscent mood laid a canny hand on me and I began to count the faces of some of these lawyers who sat at my table three times a day when I kept boarders on Fifth Avenue where the courthouse now stands. Col. W. H. Dabney was an inmate in my home for several years. He was a quiet, unassuming, pleasant gentleman. When court was in session he ate sparingly - sometimes only a bit of bread and a glass of milk. He often asked me where to find certain passages of Scripture, saying he had need for them.

"Capt. C. N. Featherston and Cols. E. N. Broyles and Dan'l. R. Mitchell were regular table boarders, Judge A. R. Wright a dinner guest when court was in session. All of these gentle- men were very courteous to me and my housekeeper, Miss McCauley. Thirty-two young men sat at my table regularly - business men and clerks. All have passed the Great Divide and 'left me counting on this spot the faces that are gone.'

"In my young days I was often a guest in the house of Judge Wright. He was fond of music, and would lie on a sofa while I would play and sing for him. Sometimes tears would creep through his closed lids, especially when I sang 'Bonnie Doon' - sometimes he walked to and fro in the parlor and called for his favorite songs.

"The curtain of years now veils my eyes, and the drum beats of time have sadly dulled my hearing, but memory lingers and I see again many beautiful pictures, and many sad scenes that have come into my strenuous life of three score and eighteen years.

LOVE FOR OLD SLAVES. - The tender bond of sentiment existing between master and slave in the ante-bellum days is an old story, and it has plenty of verification in fact. While it is quite true that there were occasional instances of cruelty and oppression, as a rule master and mistress treated the slaves with great consideration. Few people would want slavery re-established, yet it is interesting to take note of instances in which slaves were treated almost like members of the family by the "white folks."

When the war came, many slaves begged to accompany their masters as bodyguards, and were allowed to go. These faithful souls will never be forgotten by the people of the South.

H. W. Johnstone, of Curryville, Gordon County, relates how "Aunt Mammy Anne," his family's old slave, died at Rome in 1855, and was buried beside the Johnstone family vault in North Rome.

Philip Harper, a 10-year-old boy, was sold Aug. 3, 1854, with three other darkies from John Hai'kins to Alexander Thornton Harper, of Cave Spring, for $2,275 cash. Quite an attachment grew up between master and slave, which found its highest expression when Mr. Harper was forced to sell Philip in 1863 at the court house in Atlanta. The master attended the sale and promised to buy him back at the first opportunity. Both wept as the auctioneer sold the boy, then 19.

"Dear Madame: This missive leaves me as well as I will ever be again in this life. I fear I would have been up there before now, but my old woman keeps so very poorly until I fear to leave her. How are you and all the children? Well, I hope. My dearest associaton as a boy began in and around old Cave Spring. It has been so long since I have been there that I believe I would not know the place, but if the good Lord will spare me a few days longer, I will in real life review my old, old home once more in this life. All the people that I once knew are gone, gone; and I have only a few days - then I shall join them in Heaven. I have thought a thousand times about the last meeting Mr. Alexander and myself had was in Atlanta in 1863 at the court house after the sale was inade. Then it was I did my best at crying. He cried, too, but he promise to buy me back.

"I know you will excuse the boldness I take in writing you. When I got sick, you was my doctor; cared for me in sickness. You remember how you cared for me when I got my finger broke?

Mrs. Harper immediately sent the old darkey enough money to come to Cave Spring, which he did, and both of them cried as they reviewed the days that will return no more. As a member of the Harper family expressed it, Philip's appearance was like the return of a long-lost son. * * *

"When my father, David Rounsaville, died, I was in my eleventh year; Sister Josephine was six. Brother 'Dolph' five; these, with our mother, constituted the family. The question that faced us was how we were to get a support. Father had been sick a long time and the small amount of money he had accumulated with a view of entering the mercantile business again was soon spent and we were practically without means. Fortunately, we had a home at Sixth Avenue and East First Street, and this was a great help because we didn't have to pay rent.

"My first work was with a Mr. Bayless, who kept a confectionery store in part of the old Exchange Hotel. I think my salary was $5 per month. Father left us a team which we hired out and from which we collected the hire every night, and this with my pay was our only means of support. Our mother was a very industrious and economical manager.

"About this time a small affair probably changed the current of my life. Mr. Bayless told me one hot day to sweep out the store. I did so to my own satisfaction, but not to his; therefore, he ordered me to sweep it again. I demurred and he punched me with the brushing part o^ the broom. I deliberately walked into the street and procured a good-sized rock and went into the store and threw it at him with all my might. He ran out the back door and I got my little red calico coat and left, and never went back again.

"Mr. Bayless was a northern man. He continued to do a prosperous business, and finally went into groceries and wholesale liquors. He kept large quantities of liquor in barrels and coffee in sacks, and had them piled up in tiers against the walls of his store. One morning it was announced in the Rome Southerner that Mr. Bayless had sold his large business to Gen. Geo. S. Black and associates. It seems Mr. Bayless bantered Gen. Black into a trade, and sold on an inventory just taken by himself. A check for the money was given by Gen. Black (most likely on the Bank of the Empire State), and Mr. Bayless left immediately for the east. A few days later Gen. Black showed a customer a sample of the fine whiskey, but the whiskey turned out to be water, and the bags of coffee were in reality corn or peas put up so as to deceive. The whole stock was that way, more or less. Gen. Black made a strong effort to locate Mr. Bayless, but did not succeed.

"About 44 years after this happened, I was in New York and getting ready to come home. I stepped into a railroad ticket booth in the hotel and saw a handsome, white-haii-ed gentleman standing behind the desk. I asked the man what was the price of tickets to the South, and he asked me where I wanted to go. I told him Rome, Ga., and he inquired if I lived there. I replied in the affirmative, and he said, 'Do you know Col. Printup in Rome?'

"I inquired as to where he had known Col. Printup and he said in Rome, more than 40 years before. He stated in answer to my query that his name was Bayless, adding that he had just returned from Australia, where he had gone from Rome, and had never returned in the meantime to this country.

" 'Mr. Bayless, do you remember Gen. Black?' I asked. He hesitated a moment, looked me straight in the eyes, and then dropped his head. I said, 'I know you well. I clerked for you when you first came to Rome and opened your confectionery.' 'No,' he answered, 'you are mistaken; I was in the cotton business.'

"I informed him that I was not leaving New York until the next day and would call back to see him. I called several times, but he was not there.

"After leaving the confectionery shop, I went to work for Mr. O. A. Myers, a most excellent gentleman and editor and proprietor of the Rome Southerner. He took me in his office at $5 a month and my clothing. How well do I remember the first thing he gave me - a pair of fine gray cashmere trousers. I thought they were the prettiest things I had ever seen and it seemed they never wore out. Mr. Myers appreciated my efforts so much in my thirteenth year that he sent me out to travel for the paper. I remember one night at Cave Spring, where I spent the day collecting subscriptions until I had a considerable sum of money. I was afraid to go to the hotel, lest I might be robbed or miss the stage coach, which was due to leave for Rome at midnight, so after dark I slipped into the coach, croucher^ in a corner and waited until the driver climbed onto his box and made off.

"Once I went to Summerville, and saw two men arguing politics in the town square. Buchanan was running for president. One man seemed to have the advantage of the other, and I championed the weaker side, asking the other man a question he couldn't answer. The crowd whooped and yelled, and the man turned on me and said, 'Look here, my little fellow, you

"Mother soon decided that I must go to school on what Little Dolph and I had made, so I went two terms to Prof. Peter M. Sheibley, one of the finest teachers Rome ever had. In 1858 we removed to the farm of Uncle Jimmie Meredith in Broomtown Valley, Cherokee County, Ala., and farmed there until the war broke out. The people were very kind to us, although the young farmers laughed at us because we plowed in gloves and large straw hats, and could not lay off straight rows. I often amused a crowd telling them of schemes I had to make farming easier, like boring a hole in the end of the plow foot, and putting up an umbrella to plow under.

"I also said a man ought to be able to ride while he plowed, and I perfected a three-foot plow that would list land with two furrows, and save the labor of two men and one horse. For irons I used hickory withes and attached them to the front wheels of a tv/o-horse wagon and pulled the contraption with two oxen, Mike and Bright. I demonstrated that this plow would work, but lack of means and the taunt from the Alabama farmers that it was a lazy, mean method, caused me to give it up. Years later I saw men patent this idea and develop it into some of our labor-saving plows of today, and I have always thought my plow deserved the priority.

"Our life in the country was not only a pleasant and happy one, but I verily believe it paved the way for our future success in business. It taught us to work and brought us a knowledge of the people from whom in after years we received our greatest help in building and maintainihg our wholesale grocery and cotton business.

"We learned nature and the seasons and the peculiarities of agricultural products of the section. We were taught the value of money, how hard it was to make, and at the character-forming time, instead of carousing en the streets of a city until midnight, we went to sleep soon after supper and slept the sleep of the innocent and the just. In later years we opened our store at daylight and closed it at midnight." * * * two pairs of old breeches, that you may have a new coat made of them; also some new socks, which your mother has just knit by cutting down some of mine. Your mother sends you $10 without my knowledge, and for fear you might not spend it wisely, I have kept back half, and send you only five. We are all well, except that your sister has got the measles, which may spread among the other girls. I hope you will do honor to my teachings. If you do not, you are an ass, and your mother and myself are your affectionate parents." - Rome Tri- Weekly Courier, Jan. 21, 1860.

Robt. Battey'S Troubles

ROBT. BATTEY'S TROUBLES AT SCHOOL. - At 11 years of age and under date of May 12, 1839, Robert Battey wrote as follows to his mother in Augusta from Phillips-Andover Academy, Andover, Mass. His brother George, 13, was there with him at the time :

"My dear Mother: We received a bundle from you not long since containing a letter, 4 dollars, some cotton seed, a pocket handkerchief, 2 flags, 2 knives, 2 books, the violet and Juvenile Forget-me-not which I thought was very good and interesting. Brother goes to writing school to Mr. Badger and is improving very fast. As soon as he has done his coarse of lessons he will write you a letter so that you can see how much he has improved. Chas. Hall is here at present. We have got a new boarder, his name is Daniel E. Safford. Brother has five rabbits and one of them has or is a going to have some young ones. I have been reading Rolo Learning to Read and Rolo's Vacasion. I like them very much indeed. Last Tuesday we had a company of 100 Latin and English students. They marched up and down town and then they had a reces of about 15 minutes. They had water and molasses and water. After that they marched around again; their dress was simply their Sunday best clothes, a cane and a role of pasteboard with a blue ribbon tied around it. I have found a very great fait in brother, that is, telling things arround town that I never told him, and when he gets caught in telling a lie he says that I told him something like it. His object in doing this is to make folks think better of him and worse of me. Sometimes he is kind and affectionate. I believe you wrote me to tell Mrs. Green when he imposes uppon me, but I do not like to tell her but I do not do anything to him but stand and bare it. Tiie other day I went down to Mr. Abbott's and bought some sugar to put in some chocolate as I and D. E. Safford used to go over in a field and build up a fire in an old tea kettle for a stove and had an old coffee pot which we found out there which we made our chocolate in. However one day I had the sugar in my pocket and Mrs. Green took it out and said it was hers. I told her it was not for I bought it down to Mr. Abbott's and if she was a mind to she might ask him but after that she got pretty cool about it. I have got a book called My Brother's Letters which I think is a very good book. Give my love to father, Aunt Mary Anna and all other inquiring friends and my best love for yourself. I hope you will write me soon. "Your affectionate son,

Shortly after the death of his father, Cephas Battey, from yellow fever, Robert wrote his mother from Andover (under date of Dec. 8, 1839) :

"My dear Mother: I received a letter from Aunt Susan last Thursday morning. Wednesday before last there was a great fire up town. Wednesday before last the book bindery burnt it belonged to Mr. Wm. Waters there has been a subscription for him. Thanks be unto the Lord it was not our house for I was sick. I had eaten something that did not agree with me. Mr. Green had his hog killed last Wednesday. Some body set fire to our chicken house last Thursday. George lost 7 rabbits. My little pigeon is doing very well. Daniel came last Friday. Mrs. Green's flowers are doing very well. Tell me is cousin Miller alive. Tell aunt creasy I am well. Mrs. Blanchard, Rhoda & I all send their love.

George added a postscript, saying: "You will see by Robby's letter that we have had a fire. I have been playing chess with Robby and he can play pretty well for the time he has been

FRANK L. STANTON'S SANCTUM. - The casual visitor to Frank L Stanton's sanctum in the Atlanta Constitution building is deeply and lastingly impressed with the physical aspects of the place; a roll-top desk over in a corner; a swivel chair for the poet which he seldoms "swivels;" a cane-bottom chair for a friend; on the dark, smoky, spider-webbed walls a Lewis Gregg pen sketch of Joel Chandler Harris ("Uncle Remus") and cartoons by Opper and Fox pasted up without frames; a sea of old newspaper exchanges, the accumulation of months, stacked so high on both sides of the desk as to obscure the pigeon holes, which are crammed with letters, papers and poems; the top of the desk burdened with daily and weekly journals from all over the country, and surmounting them a tangled heap of spider nests and ancient dust; on the floor a discarded shower of his literary sheaves; a single electrip drop globe and a clouded window to admit a little more light; a rat's nest in nearly every drawer of the desk.

Stanton is always absorbed in plots for poems and paragraphs; he moves solitarily between office and home; year in and year out he grinds his daily grist, a column known as "Just From Georgia," and his political quips and a serious editorial daily; he is one of the most prolific writers in the United States; he is friendly and reminiscent, but he seldom invites anybody to his den, and when they come they do not consume much of his time. His office is in a rather remote part of the building; not so remote as it is "unsuspected" and undiscovered, for the human stream that flows out of the elevator and the staii'way does not pass his door.

In a sense, Stanton is comparable to Sir Walter Scott, who used to throw his manuscript over his shoulder, to be picked up later by somebody and put into print. He exudes so much poetry that it sometimes gets out of his reach in the junk that surrounds him, and does not appear for days, weeks or months afterward. In a sense, he is comparable to Horace Greeley, who wrote such a miserable hand that but one compositor on the New York Tribune could read it. Stanton can write plainly and pleasingly when he takes the time. However, he usually leaves much to the imagination, and unless the printer reads it who is accustomed to his style, there is trouble in the plant.

"One of your duties, son, will be to carry the copy to the composing room. Whenever I write anything, you come in here and get it, and whenever Mr. Stanton writes anything, go in there and take it back. I think Mr. Stanton has some now."

They went to the doorway and peeked in. There sat Stanton with his elbows aspread, his head low and his right hand fighting furiously with a pencil. He had dug so deeply into a mountain of papers that no part of him was discernible below his shoulders. He would make a great effort and out would come a sheet of long hand, suggestive of a doodle-bug playing in a sand hill or a mole starting a direct route to China.

"I forgot to tell you the way you should approach Mr. Stanton. The boy that had your job understood it. You notice the rope on the hook here at the door is attached to the chandelier in the middle of the room. The easiest and quietest way to get in there is to grab the rope and swing from the door to the table beside his desk, where you will be able to get the copy. Then you swing back. The idea is not to disturb his muse. Let's see how well you can do it.'

"Why, what's the matter?" "A man from Mt. Alto just come out, sayin' he wanted a write-up, but saw Mr. Stanton was busy, so just left his box on the table and said he v/ould be back. No, sir, I ain't goin' in there!"

Mr. Stanton was the owner of a small dog which had the distinction of having been named after a famous expression. Sam Jones used to come to Rome and exclaim at his great meetings, "My, my, man - can not you see the error of your ways?" So the dog was named "My-my."

"My-my" was a product of the flood of 1886. He has been born in the Fourth Ward in February of that year; when the high water came, he swam into Rome proper for the first time, and anchored on Broad Street. It was cold and the puppy took refuge in a hallway, where he was found and adopted by Col. Graves, who carried him home to 402 First Avenue. Here the little dog forgot his late experiences, and his humility at the same time. He bit Dr. Henry Battey savagely on the ankle, so that ever after the doctor bowed himself out of the house backwards.

The dog soon became a pet at The Tribune office, and since Stanton fed him and kept him as a "paperweight" on his desk, he soon forsook his original benefactor. Presently Col. Graves' first wife died and they buried her over on Myrtle Hill. Bishop Warren A. Candler came to Rome, called on Col. Graves and proposed that they go to the cemetery for a silent word of prayer. As they approached the tomb, they saw Mr. and Mrs. Stanton, accompanied by "My-my."

saying, Col. Graves walked off, and Bishop Candler followed. "My-my" hesitated a moment, swallowed hard, smacked his lips meekly and tucking his tail between his legs, followed the Stantons. Col. Graves declared philosophically, "Thus it is with all earthly friends!"