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Of Dixie’s Resorts
ii E : "
Kiy ,\‘.,\:':';‘“\\ e W a glove, but the basquer's figure w
BAT St VT, \ have no adventitious aids in thew;
Wi .f".“l:l«“'.ix';" b of stays. The new basque will
-@7"l'4‘-" 7~ N t‘[",‘.“‘. X completely merciless, and somethi
Pt g‘fi‘;‘“ AP iy R tells me that it will not be popul
SRR 0 TN with a good many stalwart perso
\ \:‘\:" , "/;7"::; SRER now reveling in the ease and flop
» '“ "_'-\\’ ¢ ; freedom of the present-day girthle
O O , / ‘ frocks.
) I:q-if:" L& bt 3 LR R
; ‘,,"‘ ".:‘f'?}: E'VE heard so many suffra
0 "\“K_<£% vy i W stories lately that we've re:
St ) Pil
N o Soga 1S TG J ly gotten confused on the su
R iant ana hardly now whather wa a
HERE are the brides of yester-
W year? That is, the brides’ duds.
The brides ars matrons now
though they don’t look it; nothing
like in the good old days when it was
an easy chair and a black dress and
nice, large, comfortable shoes at 50.
But the dud’ —one bride of 1870—
gsomeons was telllng me the other
day how she was outfitted, and T
caught myself mentally jotting down
the list of apparel donned by one of
our latest little brides. The contrast
was—— .
Well, look it over.
Here is the list for the eighteen
seventy-something bride:
Gray basket-weave dress; polonaise
trimmed with gray worsted ball
fringe, lined with selicia, paper cam
bric, wiggins, drillings; with velvet
btinding.
Two cambric petticoats (count ‘em
—two) puffed and frilled with em
broidery and tucks.
One linen chemise with braided
corset protector.
High-busted corset. |
Lisle thread stockings. |
High buttoned shoes.
Wrist-length kid gloves. |
Natural flowers in the halr, usually }
fessamine. ‘
And (of course)—— |
\
“Something old and something new, |
Something borrowed and something
blus” “
for luck, with eight or fifteen gar
ters (!) pressed upon her by gir!
friends seeking a matrimonial charm,
some of which unduly constricted,
while others wers in {mminent dan
ger of slipping off and interrupting
the ceremonial march. ‘
And the bride of to-day—beautiful,
willowy, sleazy little bride—wears,
not overlooking the most intimate de
tafls: |
One silk union sult. |
One shadow lace petticoat, t:‘as:s-1
parent. |
One white crepe dress with lace
trimmings.
Bilk stockings.
Slippers.
Bouquet of orchids and lilies. |
She could slip into the costume in
three minutes at a pinch. And it IS
rather more suitable to June and July
than the yester-year make-up, isn’t
1t?
Oh, yes—l won(fer if T dare go 2
step further and discuss the ROBES
DE NUIT?
Certainly. 1 dare do anything, al
most. Besldes, it doesn't take much
courage, and 1 have seen plenty of
‘em.
A third of a century ago the affair
was of domestic, cut princess, with |
modest high neck and long sleeves,
and a world of puffs and tucks and
embroidery, and two or threes ruffles
get about the hem, which in most
cases was made to trail nearly a
yard.
And these days? "
A dainty creation of chiffon cloth or
mull, sleeveless, low in the neck, and
go ephemeral that it may be drawn
through the wedding ring.
. . -
UT in that Mecca of the bon ton
O commonly known &as Druid Hills,
there lives a woman who was
rot always thus. T mean she was
eonce upon & time a quiet little home
body who lived in & qulet little town
not far from here.
But along came a Fairy Prince—
{ e, an Atlanta man with money—
and now Mrs. F. P. {s a social light
not so far from the top, for she
really does it very well.
She slipped back a bit the other
morning, however, when her cook
Gidn't come. She was in the kitchen
(as a dutiful wife, climber or no
climber, should be in such a crisis)
and a neighbor saw her, and rather
meanly saluted her from her own
(the neighbor’s) side veranda.
The first bit of repartee that oc
curred to the first woman Wwas to
ask:
“Won't you PLEASE tell me how
to make corn muffins? My cook didn’t
come this morning and, of course, I'm
HELPLESS without her. How DO
you make corn muiiins?”
“Oh, just the same way you used
to,” replied the neighbor. “Atlanta
muffins are made just exactly like
those in——"
Here she mentioned the name of
the quiet little village referred to in
S %‘R@-' £\ B [
‘ ) < ,”4;(3!'.:"—_. - (_:- e ———] ’
o & fle!; 2 '»é’{éfté‘ui WAR R
: gLYRS Y I o
: &\ NE 53 ".
N s AT E
raragraph 1 of this account.
But I'm not g.oln.g t.o mention {t.
SAW a costume at one cf the clubs
I the other afternoon that even in
this day of startlers was really
deserving of -notice. The top was on
the order of a basque, and buttoned
plainly from throat to waist, where a
broad sash held it in quite loosely.
The skirt was plald and very closely
resembled a Scotch kilt, though it
was a little longer, and it was topped
off with a tiny little hat with a bright
feather. Before anyone could sup
press him, one of the men in our par
ty remarked that it was “even Lauder
than Harry,” but I think that the
truth was told more nearly when
someone else said that she looked as
if she had been picked before.she was
ripe. .
.0 & !
HE Natfona! Bureau of ' Censors
T has broken out again.
The N. B. of C. consists of
Miss Louise Riley, Miss Catherine
Wyly, Miss Helen Dargan and Miss
Jeanette Lowndes. All of them are
noted for something. Miss Riley s
a beauty; some say the most beauti
ful girl in Atlanta. Miss Wyly is a
wit and a sparkling star at repartee.
Miss Dargan has an inspiring gift of
originaiity and & fixed pmjuddco‘
against taking a dare. Miss Lowndes
has a charming voice and a most op
timistic disposition.
They all have youth and good looks
and liveliness, and it is a dull day In
the springtime of youth when the
N. B. C. can't start something.
But (alas!) Miss Riley is in Europe
now, and her thres compatriots are
missing her sadly. They had a little
luncheon the other day at one of the
downtown cafes, and after bewailing
Miss Riley’s absence they began to
plot.
They wished something would
happen—a fire, for instance. As the
most practical way of finding a fire,
the trio piled ilnto Miss Dargan’s
electric and sought the nearest fire
station. ‘
“Is there a fire golng on in Atlanta
right now?” one of the three inquired,
sweetly. |
“Not right now.” was the reply.
“Oh, I'm!so sorry! When will there
be a fire?” |
The noble fireman was considerably
aghast at this sally, but collected his/
wits enough to say that he reg'rettedi
that people who were going to have
fires did not inform the departmenfl
in advance. {
Clearly (as Miss Dargan pointed
out) there was nothing to do but elt!
down and wait for a fire to happen.
And that is just what the trio did.‘
to the amazement of the firemen,
who were unable to g 0 on with the
checker game. .
They waited patiently for one hour,
and thers was no fire,
“Come on,” sald Miss Wyly at last,
“don't you know that a watched fire
never bolls—that is, burns?”
So they went to a shop and pur
chased a supply of pretzels and ol
fves and trundled homeward, “com- |
forting themselves with these viands |
and the promise of Miss Dargan that'
‘the very next fire that broke out she
would dash madly to the scene and
telephone the others from the burning
building.
} Now they are waiting for the fire
and Miss Riley with about equal im
| patience.
\ ¢ o
| ERE goes for a prophscy.
i H The first cool day of the com
| ing autumn there will be seen
‘on Peachtree street a certain well
' known soclety woman, noted for her
lflawless taste in gowns., This in it
self will not be so surprising. She is
seen almost every day wherever well
dressed women congregate.
But on the cool, autumnal day to
which I am referring this modish
woman will be wearing a basque.
A BASQUE.
Basques were worn in the daguer
reotype days. If you have a daguer
reotype album, you can look it up for
yourself. Then, you will not have tae
least idea of what this autumnal
basque is going to look like.
For the original type—the kind that
Ethel Barrymore used to wear in
“Captain Jinks”—was “boned” and
steeled within an inch of the wearer's
life, lined with silicia and buttoned
up the front with as many buttons as
the maker had patience to sew on and
work buttonholes for. Tt fitted like a
lglnve. and then some, |
The modern basque also will fit uke]
a glove, but the basquer's figure will
have no adventitious aids in the way
of stays. The new basque will be
completely merciless, and something
tells me that it will not be popular
with 2 good many stalwart persons
now reveling in the ease and floppy
freedom of the present-day girthless
frocks.
w 8
E'VE heara so many suffrage
W stories lately that we've real
ly gotten confused on the sub
ject, and hardly know whether we ad
mire the wit of the antis or the pros
the most, but I do think that Speaker
Burwell was very clever when he gdt
out of giving a direct answer to Mrs.
McDougald’s questions at the Driving
Club the other afternoon. Mrs. Mec-
Dougald had put forward some of her
very best arguments, and the Speaker
couldn’t help being impressed, for she
has the subject at her tongue's tip
and is a very persuasive talker. See
ing the impression she had made, she
4nally put the direct question:
“Just how do YOU stand on the
juestion, Mr. Burwell 2"
The Speaker hesitated not at all.
“Oh, Mrs. McDougald,” he replied,
“it is against the rules for the Speal-
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hos - D g
er to have a decided opinion on anyl
subject.” ‘
The glirls are converting the men to
the suffrage side, however; if not in
one way, then in another. I heard an
argument the other day between a
girl who is much interested in the
cause and a man who just could not
—or would not—see things the same
way. She flnally talked him into si
lence, got in the last word very effec
tively, and departed, flushed with vic
tory. The man mopped his fevered
brow and looked around a liitle
sheepishly.
- “Do you know,” he finally admitted,
“in spite of being trampled on, it's
a pleasure to talk to a girl who is not
a fool.” ‘
9T
OU all remember the anclent
Y proverb that people who love
in glass houses should pull down
the blinds. It sometimes applies to
those who sit on the porch, if they
are not careful of their backgrounds.
There was a party of us motoring the
other evening and our machine was
held up behind a street car before a
certain house on the North Side where
three very charming sisters live. Now,
one of these girls has a snub nose,
one's is slightly Roman and the
third’'s is pure Greek. The house was
brightly lighted, and the two young
people who were seated on the porch
wera clearly silhouetted against an
open window. But they were igno
rant of this fact; at least, I presume
that they were ignorant. At any rate,
not only our party, but everybody
on the street car, had a beautiful
opportunity to observe the moving
picture with the faces blotted out,
which was going on on the porch.j
ATLANTA, GA., SUNDAY, JULY 19, 1914
;'“'vi*iv';VVrr - . 5
Sociefy Folß in Gay bance
| Miss Marguetite Ward and Henry Taylor executing one of ¢
! the diffieult steps of the tango. Miss Ward is the daughter of ¢
' Mrs. B. C. Ward and one of the most popular members of the |
vounger set. Both she and Mr. Taylor are considered among !
{ the best dancers who frequent the popular East Lake Club. j
f e e
g § '.‘ o\é -:::'VE ;
ik LR
e o & Bk a
R "W 4
% oo 5 3 5 ,5?«
sl o LA
,:’ : «} - 3
“ N 2 N § ; :
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i RN o e ¥ i AT, Bt
J. W o
B iy o g- s ¢ '
P iR e |
LN R '
C o e A ‘
A s
w e
Just as we were about to move on,
she moved a little bit away from him,
and lifted her face with the profiie
turned squarely to us. Her nose was
neither snub nor slightly Roman. It
was pure, pure Greek.
. . .
40 says that girls are frivolous
W newadays? Surely not anyone
who has ever listened to one of
their conversations when no one fis
supposed to be near, There were
four of them playing bridge the other
afternoon, and to look’'at them you
‘would never have murmured “High
brow.” They wore high-heeled shoes
and embroidered stockings and ab
surd little hats just like the rest of
us, and when I saw them pass I was
forcibly reminded of what Gelett
Burgess sald in the “Maxims of Me
thuselah.” Of course, you remember:
“And think not that every girl who
looks like a maliden going to a tea is
a stenographer, for some ARE maid
ens going to a tea.”
Well, anyway, they sat and played
bridge and talked apd talked, and
by and by they became so interested
in the conversation that the cards
were completely forgotten, and the
afternoon passed, and none of them
got home until way after dark. A
man would be willing to §wear that
they were talking clothes and danc
ing and scandal, but he would be sad
ly mistaken. Suffrage, eugenics, phi
losophy, higher education and other
learned subjects came up for discus
sion, and then they talked about what |
they were reading—not The Cosmo
politan or The Saturday Evenlng‘
Post, but Kant and Strindberg and}
Balzac and the Memoirs of Celiini!
And when my informant reached this
point T poked my fingers in my ears
and fled away to write about it. So
you see, you can't say that girls are
frivolous any more. Of course, I am,
but who could help it with a name
like mine? Anyhow, my frivolity is
so consistent that it is admirable for
that very reason.
.9 8
ID you ever hear of anything so
D unusual and attractive as Mrs,
Ella Wright Wilcox’'s being
married at 7 in the morning? When
1 first heard about it, it struck me as
a very brave thing to do, but she
looked as fresh and as beautiful as
ever, and that is something that not
mapy of us do at 7 lin the morning.
I'm inclined to belleve that she has
rteen practleing early rising far some
ttime in preparation for this, for it is
traditional that women do not look
their best during the early morning
hours. I'm afraid I would be deserted
at the altar if I ever tried any such
thing—that is, if 1 didn't oversleep
and forget to come.
. . L
| AVE you seen all those lovely
| I"‘I Paris clothes that Mrs. Donald
| Eastman had in her trousseau
‘and that she is wearing now to the|
'admiration and despair of all her!
ferninine friends? She was out at the
Driving Club the other afternoon ini
one of the most attractive of her cre
lations_ one that she calls her bell
frock. It is of very soft but metallic
looking black silk, and the skirt flares
in a bell-shaped curve about her feet.
In the back there is a great big bow
of shining steely blue stuff that hangs
from the shoulders and swings back
and forth when she walks or dances
with a motion resembling that of the
clapper of a bell. The only difference
P ? 2
M ‘
) T
A W
\at it does not ring, but it is one ffl;//l " ~'.,';‘. % 2
he most graceful and unusual '.b § v‘* ‘”?'-:\ K+
ns that I've seen this season. Wit i~"*':"'§ e A\
¢ -,?;‘-'!" N oSN
was at a Driving Club dinner- ‘ Be, A TP
lance and things were going very B 4 _f' 4 b, o ,‘—'/ R
nerrily fcr almost everybody. But \“ "'{‘*:&'s’?3 fi"‘v 3
N R
d one partner who seemed to be R B e :\\? AR
ng a sad time of it. He puffed @ NAv B A _.5-.,\)
he blew and he mopped his brow, Bk, Vi e
he was finally moved to make A N P R P
R e 2D} ” AT
s very uncomplimentary remarks @@ N ~.5{,1,_,.': AR >
it dancing in general and his own 4'/- @ : ™ @
is that it does not ring, but it is one
of the most graceful and unusual
gowns that I've seen this season.
. . .
T was at a Driving Club dinner
| dance and things were going very
merrily fcr almost everybody. But
I had one partner who seemed to be
having a sad time of it. He puffed
and he blew and he mopped his brow,
and he was finally moved to make
some Very uncomplimentary remarks
about dancing in general and his own
dancing in particular. 1 inquired
sympatheticaly why he did it if he
felt so strongly about it.
“If you look behind you,” he replled,
“you will find the answer to your
question.” I looked. And there was
his young and very pretty wife in the
center of an admiring group of men,
each of whom was begging for the
next dance. ;
“You seé,” he continued sadly, “I
just have to.” .I c‘rr!:flnly agreed.
HE green hat has gotten here,
T and—oh, it is SO green! Of
course, I had heard of it, and
that it was on its way here, but some
how I never dreamed that it would
look like that. I wouldn't believe it
now if I hadn’'t seen it with hy own
eyes, and they have ached ever since.
It came down Peachtree street and
turned into the Candler Building, and
every neck along the way craned as It
went by. Itgs owner did not cringe or
slink along. Rather, he bore himself
with a certaln jauntiness as if he con
sidered himself quite smart. Pride
shone in his face and a consclousness
of superior taste. I suffered in silence
over those blue and white mixtures,
but this was just one thing too mch.
If it just hadn't been quite so green!
1 really don't like t.n trnlnk about it.
e
HEY WILL dance, you know, and
’T there's no earthly use trying to
‘ gtop them, for no matter what
the obstacle, they manage somehow
‘to overcome it. It was a congenlal
automobile party which had motored
‘ out for a picnic supper, three cars full
‘of them, and they Wurning to
‘the home of one of™ ue girls for a
little dancing, when the most terrific
‘storm came up. It thundered and It
‘pnured, and it drove the merry mo
‘torists to take shelter in a nearby
farmhouse. The storm kept up all
evening, but did they sulk and pine
for the dance they were going to
have? Not they. They routed out
an ancient negro, with an equally an
cient mouth organ, and they danced
until it was 11 o'clock and the stars
were shining again. I hear that the
tarmers were the only people who
didn’t thoroughly enjoy the proceed
ings, for the ancient negro had just
as good & tlme‘u .anzvbody.
N Ansley Park girl had a rather
A embarrassing experience the
other afternoon when she went
out {n a great hurry with just enough
time to catch the last car that would
‘get her to the matinee befors the ocur-
taln went up. She was in too much of
a hurry to put on her gloves before
she got on the car, and then she dis
covered that what she had thought
were her white silk gloves were in
reality a palr of white silk stockings
that she had picked up in her haste.
It was a crowded car, too, which only
served to mnkc: n:im:s worse. y
OVERHEARD a very warm argu-‘
l ment the other day on one of the
eternal questions which will serve
as food for conversation for many
and many a long year to come. There
are a goodly number of these, but the
particular one that was under dis- |
cu‘slon by this grou, of young things
was regartling the best way to win a
woman. FEach side of the argument
—and there were quite a number of
sides—had a chain of evidence to
produce and {llustrations without end
to prove what they contended, until
by the time all the evidence was inl
knew more about my nelghbors’ af
fairs than I had ever even hoped for.
“Persistence is the only thing that
counts,” argued one. “A man can
marry any girl he wants if he just
hangs on long enough.” “Provided,”
put in another, “that she doesn’t run
off with someone she has known
about a week in the meantime.” It
seems that there were {nnumerable
cases of this very persistence at the
tongue's lip of them both, and they
told us al] about them.
1t was the announcement of the en- 1
gagement of a certaln Macon girl
who has visited here often that
brought on the discussion in the first
place. Persistence had to be strung
out over four years before it accom
plished anything in her case. Then,
of course, there were the two or
three who always stand out for love
at first sight or nothing at all. It s
a curious thing, but I've always found |
that these are the ones who have
each a persisient lover lingering in
the background, and they don’t like to
look forward to anything so unro
mantic as final surrender. When they
had finally argued it all out and con
vinced nobhody, one of them suddenly
remembered me. ‘
“Why, Polly ought to know,” she
exclaimed, and they all turned to me‘
eagerly. Oh, well, Polly has her {deas,
kut Polly isn't telling.
. . .
A LI of you remember—at least all
of you who are old enough—
remember “Dolly Varden” and
the man who fell in love with her,
“though he had only seen her ankies
and her feet.” And If history repeats
itself, why shouldn’'t romance, which
is so much more interesting? In
this case romance has, and "“Dolly
Varden” has come to Atlanta, but not
in the sedan chair with the bottom
onut, {n which she made her entrance
in the opera. She =at on the porch of
the Fast Lake boathouse, and appar
ently she was there te watch the
swimmers, but the sun seemed to
bother her and she held a dainty par
asHl 8o that she couldn’t see the water
—or rather, so that no one In the
water could see her face. He was
iswlmmlng, and in spite of the fact
that the water was good and cold,
‘nnd that ordinarily he was very fond
lof swimming, he soon became more
interested In something else.
! That something else was a palr of
~diminutiye feet that were perched on
the ralling above his head. He iscer
‘tain that thers isn’t a smaller foot or
‘a slenderer ankle in all Atlanta, or a
‘nobbler set of shoes and stockings,
either. The shoes were patent leather
with cut steel buckles and very high,
bright-red heels, and the stockings
were white embroidered {n black.
Above that was a black and white
'striped skirt, and above that a black
and white parasol held at just the
most tantalizing angle in the world.
He swam around a while and walted
for the paraso! to be moved, but it
held its original position stubbornly.
When he realized that {t wasn't go
ing to be moved, out he came, and he
hurried moat awfully over to his
dressing room, but alas! for romance.
Whten he reached the porch the divin
ity of the tiny feet and the ample
parasol was gone, and {f the earth
had swallowed her up she couldn’t
have vanished more completely,
Now, he says—and I really think he
thinks he means it—that he can't be
happy until he finds her. He main
tains, moreover, that he will know
those feet anywhere he sees them,
even without the red heels, and T un
derstand that he is spending hls va
cation in the shopping district search
ing vainly for thoss tiniest feet in
Al the | atest News
of Dixie's Resorts
‘Atlanta and thelr owner. It's an ex<
cellent opportunity for & bit of pri
vate detective work if you want to
play sleuth, i
OME Atlanta girls certatnly do go
S in for the original. There is |
Miss Margaret Northen, for in- |
stance, ° ;
Somebody was telllng me about
seelng Mlss Northen on a Ponce De- |
Leon car the other morning. Shom{
sitting right up near the front and
combing her hair-—-that aderable yel- |
low-gold halr that !s one of her best
features.
Oh, well—-1 guess it would havs
been Monday morning, or Thursday:
and I also guess Miss Margaret wonld
have been on the way back from a
swim in the Adalr pool, where the
men are barred the mornings of Mon
day and Thursday, and feminine so
clety takes its swim.
But It was a cute idea, wasn't It—
combing out your golden locks on a
street car? And it would be anoti{'r
good Idea to hang the g. 1. out of tha
window afterward, to dry in the;
breeze. Maybe she had been doing
that. My informant didn't say.
. - .
UT on the glossy floor of one of
O the Atlanta clubs the other!
night thera stepped a young
woman who looked queer. That is '
the only way I can put it. She looked
queer. Her clothes looked queer. Her |
dancing looked queer. I thought s,
Other people thought so. I heard a
middle-aged, sober-minded physiclan
saying to his wife that elther that
young person was in_the wrong place
or they were. 3
But it was a false alarm. They
were all wrong and the girl was all
‘right. She was just from the coun
try and had blossorned a bit too un
educatedly Into the full bloom of the
ultra-modern frocks and dances,
She hadn't quite learned to carry
them off, and they made her look— |
well, sort of uncertain. !
Which goes to ghow that Fiend |
Pope was correct In his o.!obutedg
surmise that a little learning was apt |
to get one In bad. i
* s |
OMEBODY sends m a marked |
S copy of The Evening Dispateh, |
of Wilmington, N. C,, ctmmmlntl,
an account of a dancing conquest “l
the famous Beach by Miss Janet'
Hatcher and Fugene V. Haymes, of |
Atlanta, who were awarded the ellver
cup offered as first prize in & one~step |
competition at Lumina, one of the
big dancing pavilions. The informa
tion was not given as to which part- i
ner retalned the cup, hut I can make
a guess. TFlugene has a lot of his own |
and, besides, he {s very gallant.
. . -
N Atlanta thers {s a T.onely Man,
l His wife has gone to the country. |
Hooray! Hoo———
No. That s not the way he feals
about {t. He is woe-begone and borad
in the extreme. Hls ennui is some
thing to blubber about. T supposs
he does blubber about it. He looks as
if he d4i4.
Therefore, 1t 13 not amazing that he
should fall {nto wild diestpation. Hers
is a sampie of his untoward reckess
‘ ness, and If his wife aver gets news of
| 1t 1t surely will bring her back to
town,
l The other aftarnoon he was going
along the street, being just as ennuf !
as he could, which (as suggested) was
very ennul indeed. He met a woman |
whom he knew. The following dia
logue ensued:
“Where are you golng? He M 4
not add “my pretty maid,” probably
because he did not think of it in time. !
“To a sew!ng circle.”
“Take me with you.” \
‘Do you know the peoplea?”
“Not at all; but you can Intreduce
me."”
“Come with me.”
They went. The extent of this un
happy man’s ennul may be guessed
from the fact that he spent the entire
afternoon trying to make himself
agreeable to that hen party—he being
usually a reticent sort of man, con
versing largely In grunts and requir
ing to be amused when in a normal
state of mind.
He stayed the entire afternoon at .
the sewing party, and it {s my infor
mation that only ons circumetance
prevented him from remaining to din
ner—the hostess announced pointedly |
that she was golng out to dine,
So the Lonely Man wandered forth
to be ennui some more, i
T'S good to be young, especlany if |
l vou are beautiful. Beauty ajv;a.ys
everyone, Now, here
co:\sge:lsre;?)rt froym a globe-trotter
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