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,| n - . | ., IV u I. | \ | . Lp ^ Mis. Calhoun is one of the charming mem hers of the young married contin- i
I )U ICII /A I ICJI \IC I I IV 1 I I Ul \ gent, and her two handsome boys are among the finest in the city. The j
larger boy bears the name of his maternal grandfather, .lames Trigg, and the little one is Abner Wellborn < a I h otin. named loi
By POLLY PEACHTREE,
I WISH to say here, and now, and !
in the most emphatic manner,
that I do not care if I do not hear
any more grand opera for at least
a year. I was present at every per
formance of opera last week. It
seemed to me that I ate opera and
drank opera. Opera seemed, to ooze
out of the very pores of my body,
even out of n\y fingers and out of
my hair; and sometimes I thought It
oozed out of my pumps also. Ahd
when It was not oozing opera^ it
seemed to me it was raining opera.
I dreamed opera and I thought the
waiters at my hotel sang opera and
danced the ballet as they brought
my coffee and rolls in the morning.
The walls of the dining room seemed
to push opera at me. The very side-
walks seemed to hit me in the face
with opera. Even when t went to-
bed, I dreamed opera. And oh, such i
dreams! Somebody,—I shall not tell]
who,—prevailed upon me to eat a!
welsh rabbit on Monday evening-at;
the Capital City Club after the first j
performance, and what happened to j
me when I tried to sleep is some
thing I will not bore you with to
day,—but It was terrible! It was
daylight before I got to sleep, and 1 !
was haunted by Caruso's voice and
by Borl’s voice, by the blare of the |
orchestra, by 'the crush at the doors j
in getting into my automobile when j
leaving; and always as I turned over
In bed a dozen times an hour, there
was opera, opera everywhere, until
1 said I was grateful that we had
op£ra only one week, every year, In
stead of two weeks, or a dozen.
* * *
I KNOW that does not sound very
nice, but as Eva Tanguay re
marks on the stage in her nasal
singing voice at $3,000 a week,—"I
don’t care! I don’t care!”
It was in my system and I had to
get It out. Now, let me go on with
whs\t I consider very important,
which Is to say this, to-wit, as fol
lows:
Caruso, the Careless—careless I
mean with his voice, and prodigal of
his strength is still the greatest tenor
in the world. You may tell me about
Zenatello, or any other tenor whom
you please, but Caruso gave all that
was in him to the people of Atlanta
during the past week,—and it was
magnificent! He never sang better.
His voice was never truer. It was
never sweeter. And while he is a
bit too stout to my way of thinking
and is no lover at all on the stage,
I am willing to kow tow to his beau
tiful voice, and to thank him and
all the members of the Musical As
sociation for the privilege we enjoy
ed in hearing him again.
* * ■*
• ^
TVfUCH aa I like Caruso, I am will-
±'1 ing to take down iny prayer rug,
kneel on it reverently, turn my. face
to the east and pray three times
every day for long life and health to
Borl, the Beautiful. You and I have
heard Caruso many, many times. I
heard Bori many times before she
came to Atlanta. But last week 1
heard her at her best. Never did she
sing so truly, with such warmth,
color and feeling as on Monday night.
A wisp of a girl, on the lines of a
Dresden china doll, her magnificent
voice rang out pure and true without
any more effort than a canary makes
when trilling its most beautiful notes.
She walked on the stage as one in
authority. She was the^least ner
vous person in the house. Song
came from her with ease and sweet
ness that the sun seems to have
when it rises in the morning. And
such song! Lucky indeed were all
of us who heard her for we may
never hear her like again. She Is
Just over twenty years of age, and
what nature may do, in the way of
changing her wonderful voice in the
next few years, r.o one can say. The
opera season will he remembered,
not by the magnificance of Caruso’s
voice, but by the charm, the grace
and the beauty of this young girl,
whose notes are as soft as liquid vel
vet. (I think liquid velvet is quite
some phrase.)
* * *
[ ASKED Mademoiselle Burl, during
*■ an afternoon tea, if she liked to
sing and she assured me she did.
I pressed her to know if she could
write music. She said she could not
pud wanted to know why I asked
her such a question. 1 told her while
we were having grand opera In At
lanta that some people were other
wise engaged, in cleaning up their
back yards, and that I had a little
verse that might be converted into a
song and I would like her to sing
it. Here it is:
Everybody dean up, don t let the rub
bish lie;
Everybody clean up and chase the
typhoid fly;
Cleau—your—yard—with all your
might.
Everybody clean up—and clean up
right.
If you want to clean up and leave no
rubbish there,
Everybody does it and every one
should care;
Everybody stir about and clean up
anyhow,
Everybody clean up—N-O-W!
The poor little girl looked at me
in a helpless way. I do not believe
she understood me. It was like try
ing to drive a joke into the head of a
Scotchman.
* * * A
VOW, having said $11 these fine
things about Caruso and Bori, arid
having witnessed the rivers of blud
on the stage, all week I am going
to ask all my readers to take off
their hats—this will include the la
dies—and give tlyee cheers for Col
onel Peel and his associates of the
Musical Festival Association to whom
walked around several times, and in
a critical way—all Harvard men are
critical—reported that the average
man at the opera was dressed prop
erly. That there were no moth-eat
en evening coats; that there were n^
red neckties and yellow shoes; that
a few wore silk hose and pumps and
that a still larger number were well
dressed because of snugly fitting
waistcoats.
But there was one waist-coat, he
said made probably by the Fuller
Construction Co., of white satin, with j
ample proportions even for one of]
our most solid citizens, and it was
buttoned with pea green buttons!
When the said solid citizen sat down
and closed his eyes, there was room
we are indebted for opera here. For
if it was not for Colonel Peel and
his associates who do a tremend
ous amount of hard work that we
lazy women and men profit by, there
would be no opera here. Col. Peel
was of course congratulated on all
sides during the week, and he seem
ed very happy, and Mrs. Peel was
congratulated and she was happy too.
And for the first time in my life 1
envied Mrs. Peel because—she is the
wife of Col. Peel! .
If any man ever asks me to marry,
I shall insist upon him modeling him
self upon the lines marked out by
Col. Peel.
As I read the above over, it seems
as though I am handing It out pretty
strong to Colonel Peel, but as I mean
It, I am going to let every word stand
just as it is written.
HO was the best dressed woman
at the opera? Who was
handsomest woman?
I cannot tell you. As soon as I had
looked at this, that and the other
woman and made up my mind that
I had come to a final decision, I
glanced fri another direction and there-
found others as beautiful and as
handsomely gowned.
I studied and fretted and fumed
over the question and I have arrived
at no definite decision.
Still I have a choice, and It is very
firmly fixed in my mind; and I there
fore name Dorothy ♦Waters Gatins,
as the one woman who in beauty,
youth and good health and in dress
filled my eye completely. She was
stunning.
And this little paragraph is simply
to add a few more leaves to her
wreath of bays.
T) E1NG a woman, I naturally turn
now and then am/look at the other
sex. Who was ‘.he handsomest and
My b.g brother from Harvard
enough in the waistcoat to stuff an
old-fashioned pillow or a dozen loaves
of bread. It was ample in every way
—and then some—but what attracted
my attention most were the green
buttons. I hope green buttons for
men’s waistcoats have not come to
stay. They are very irritating and
extremely bad for the eyes.
• • *
M Y big brother says that Robert F.
Maddox was the best-dressed
man at the opera. Maddox Is not
overweighted with flesh and his
clothes are built on extremely Eng
lish lines—so tight that he looked as
though he had been melted and pour
ed into them. How he ever breathed
with that tight collar around his
neck, 1 don’t know. But everything
about his evening raiment was cor
rect.
That does not mean that Burton
Smith, great big strong, handsome
man that he is, Governor-elect Sla
ton, Willis Ragman, Maj. Jack Cohen,
Col. Clifford Anderson, Col. Bob Low
ry. Tom Felder and several hundred
others, were not properly dressed.
They were. A splendid group of men
they are too. Burton Smith radiates
health in every direction. Tom Fel
der never takes h;s / eye» off of his
beautiful wife.
How .viaj. Jack » ohen manages to
keep so straight anu youthful looking
on Peachtree Street, was one of these
hospitable affairs.
Mrs. Murphy is always cordial,
gracious and unaffected, a typiegj
Southern hostess, and she was at her
best at her breakfast party. The chlo
New- York young matron. Mrs. Ben
Gatins, was the honor-guest of this
particular breakfast, and she looked
stunning in a French gown of gray
eharmeuse, the skirt draped in a
fetching French way with a littlfc
coat In eton effect and a collar of ex
quisite hand-made lace, as large as
the coat: a black hat shading her
flashing brown eyes. Caruso was a
guest at the breakfast, and so was
Scotti, both very much alive to the
i beauty and graciousness of the At
lanta women present.
Several of these delightful “break
fast parties’’ enlivened the week.
There was no other time to enter-
I tain at home and many Atlanta wom
en hav^ a special liking to give the
visitor a home hospitality. It’s a
good idea, and worthy of Atlanta
hostesses. Mrs. W. D. Ellis. Jr., gave
I one of these charming breakfast par
ties, her guests being a group of
young -girls invited to meet Mis*
Eunice Jackson, of Nashville, Mrs.
Robert Maddox’s guest. Another
breakfast of the week was tendered
Mrs. Albert L. Mills and Mrs. Rob
ert Jackson by Mrs. Preston Ark
wright.
is one of the wonders of the Capital
City Club.
* « *
I HAVE another paragraph about
* Caruso, and it concerns tins pleas
ures of the table. I am told that on
the afternoon-of the day in which
Caruso is to sing he takes bis hearty
meal at 1 o’clock and it usually con
sists of a three-pound boiled chicken
with rice and a bottle of red wine.
After this cheese and coffee. He
eats nothing else unti 1 aft«-r the per-
forman e.
• • •
T HE marriage of Mrs. Copley Thaw,
former Countess of Yarmouth,
to Geoffrey W. Whitney, of Bos
ton. caused onlv a slight ripple of
excitement at Cumberland island, Ga.
Th» ceremony took place at the home
of Mrs. George Carnegie, sister of
the bride The wedding party was
small, but there was an audience of
good humor and everybody wished
the litle Counters good luck in her
»cond matrimonial venture.
It is my misfortune to Have met
Yurmoutlwnariy times. He is a cal
low youth of uncertain aim in lift),
fond of screamy socks and neck
wear, and Is as far removed as one
could imagine from the sort of chap
an American girl would fall in love
with. I.t has been said that Yar
mouth, who was a chum of Harry
Thaw, brother of the Countess*, was
really selected by the man who killed
Stanford White as the husband for
his sister; and also it has been said
that Yarmouth exacted a considerable
sum of money from the Thaw family
, only a few Hours before the cere
mony was performed. I know nothing
of this. I care les**. But t do know
that the Countess, an
she
elusive Boston so
t AM told that jsome of
* yes, that is the word, FAT
friends living in hotels in
are planning to take long walks and
massage exercises and various other
things to reduce their weight. As
I see so many of these over-weight
dames setting around, f am not sur
prised that they are FAT—yes. that
is the wo’d — FAT—and a ten-miis
walk every morning between x and
1 j o'clock, securely rolled up iu a
thick sweater, will do more for them
ble little
*
* *
and that
a n
innovation o
f the
week in the
tapplnes. * 1 * *
n ,
orin of social
ente
rtain ing were
man who
the
"breakfast p<
irties
” Arid were
on in ex-
they
not delightfu
1 ? A
ftei\ an evtu-
ing
of music anc
pie.
sure, a long,
long
sleep, which
M»rv
ed to obscure
y FAT—
the
feelings* of fa
tigue
leaving only
—women
an
ifter-glow of
pleasant memories.
Atlanta
put
the guests a
t tht
se breakfasts
in a gay, good humor. Morning sun
light, instead of the brilliance of elec
tricity, brightened the spacious din
ing rooms of the breakfast hostesses,
and old-fashioned flowers, in in forma
arrangement, accorded well with iht
spirit of the occasion.
The breakfast which Mr. and Mrs.
E. Murphy gave at their home of Mr. Felder.
SEE the Shonts girls, as the young
Duchess de Chaulnes and her sla
ter. Marguerite, are familiary known
here by their former friends and Ag
nes Scott class-mates, have recovered
quickly from their nervous* collapse,
following the burning of the Shonts
winter home, near Mobile, early last
week. Mrs. Shonts, who has not been
well this winter, suffered more than
her young daughters from the fright,
but was sufficiently recovered to ac
company the young women to New
York, on Thursday, where they are
now at the Vanderbilt. The Shonts
home was a beautiful old mansion,
and I know’ the experience of seeing
It ‘go up in smoke"—to say nothing
of pretty gowns and so-forth—must
have been awful. Reports say nothing
was saved except some Jewels.
The Shonts sisters were great
favorites with Atlanta's' younger set
when they were students at Agues
Scott a few years ago. Since they
entered upon their flattering social
career they have visited here, from
time to time. Marguerite having been
entenslvely entertained in Atlanta, as
the guest of Mrs. Leonora Pacei Ows
ley, the winter her elder sister became
the wife of the young French noble
man. Many of Atlanta’s beaux cher
ish fond memories of the two and fol
low with interest their brilliant ca
reers. and the reports of their en
gagements to rich, poor men, noble
men and others.
...
T3 ACK of the announcements oflths
L* engagements of two popular
couples of young people made last
week lies a story of friendship be
tween the two girls and the two tndn
which is unique. Since they Were
little girls Mies Courtney Harrison
and Miss Muriel Hall have beer*
"chums," and through their younff
womanhood have preserved their girl
ish friendship. Lewis Turner and
Lorlng Raoul dated their Damon and
Pythias attachment to the days when
they formed a partnership In raising
chickens on the Turner place, out
Peachtree Road, while the two were
In short trousers. Their chicken en
terprise was a financial success, too,
and the partners- made almost as
much money as they could spend on
baseballs and bats in those days.
They, too, have kept up (heir friend
ship. which has been strengthened
with the passing of the years.
The four young people made their
engagements public on the same day.
and they are going to be best man and
maid of honor for each other, when
the day of Pate arrives. The two
announcements add interest to the
June wedding calendar, for both Miss
Harrison and Miss Hall are well
known and popular young women.
Mr 'Raoul Is a son of the late Wil
liam Green Raoul, one of Georgia's
prominent men Mr. Turner is a son
of Mr and Mrs P. G. Turner, wha
live on Peachtree Circle. He now
lives In LaGrange, where he will talip
his bride.
♦ * *
]y|R. AND MRS. THOMAS J. FEL
DER. former Georgians, who
have made their home in Paris for
the past several years, have recently
visited New York, and I hear they
gave one of the handsomest small
dinners of the season in the Della
Robbia room* of the Vanderbilt one
evening last week.- Mr. and Mr?,
Felder will not come to Atlanta on
this trip, much to the regret of their
friends here. Mrs. Logan William
son ami Mrs. Hogerton, formerly Miss
Kate Felder, of Atlanta, are sisters