Clarksville Weekly Chronicle

FROM ROSE HILL, TENN.

EDITORS CHRONICLE: Did you ever visit Rose Hill? If not you have missed a treat that you'd regret if you knew what a treat it is. Rose Hill is not celebrated enough, as yet, to have gained admittance to the pages of history, nor has it even been honored with a geographical description or place on any map which has been published heretofore. This, like many other things, oughtn't to be, but nevertheless, through the agency of man and other animals, it is. I will not do Rose Hill injustice by attempting a description, for I've long since learned that there is very little of the ingredient called "descriptive powers" in my general composition. It is a constitutional deficiency and not to be helped at present. Suffice it to say (if you will allow me to use a schoolgirl's expression) it is a perfect love of a place: just such a place in which Horace would have liked to live, or any one who can appreciate the delights of sylvan solitude. We don't have anything like a steam whistle to disturb our reveries when we go out for a ramble thro' the "leafy colonnades," Mr. J. W. Trahern, the most enterprising resident, has made a great many improvements in the last few years, but if you have any curiosity on the subject and would like to have a nice time, come out and you will be welcomed and hospitably entertained. Rose Hill is not a newsy place, there not being inhabitants sufficient to create any frequent sensation. We read several newspapers of course, and if there were a few more of us no doubt we would start a newspaper of our own. Occasionally we hear from Lafayette, which is better than reading ten papers you know. The crops in this vicinity are more promising, I hear, than they have been for a long time. The wheat is not much injured by frosts, and the farmers have more tobacco plants than they will be able to set out. Very poor prospect for fruit, which some think almost as bad as a tobacco failure. During the latter part of last week our social circle was enlivened by the charming presence of Misses Jennie Rives, Ida Southall, Addie and Nina Oldham. There is certainly such a thing in existence as human magnets, for part of the inhabitants evinced strange symptoms while they were in our midst, and when they went home he was so powerfully attracted that he followed them the entire distance. We hope they will come again soon.

Went to Miss Lina Edwards' quilting at uncle Bob Rives' Tuesday. Miss Lina, who knows what a good dinner is, gave us one. It was the first "quilting" I ever attended and I found it quite enjoyable. A quilting is about as nice an entertainment as ladies can have; all to themselves, though the male element was not wanting at the quilting. (I'll forbear to mention that they were both "mortgaged property;" one of them, I heard, was going to die very soon). We are all so cozy and comfortable when "gayly convened" around some work-covered table, or quilt. "Each cheerfully active, and playing her part, Begulling the time with song or with fable, And plying the needle with exquisite art. The bright little needle, the swift-flying needle," etc. I fear some of our needles were not very "swift-flying," for we didn't finish the quilt, and consequently didn't get to "shake the cat"—another time-honored way of "trying your fortune." May our kind entertainers always be blessed with happiness.

Before closing may I ask what has become of your numerous correspondents? I hope they haven't been attacked with the "spring fever." I saw a little hail storm from S. M. A. C. in the Tobacco Leaf last week, and under it "Missing in the Mail." S. M. A. C., we like to hear from you; we hope you will write soon, and yours won't be "No I. T. M."

I. D. A.

May 17, 1877.