Newspaper Page Text
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Society
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ATLANTA, GA., SUNDAY, MAY 30, 1915.
Miss Emily Lowndes, on the left, taken at one of the most brilliant wedding receptions
of the season. In the center is Mrs. W. R. Hodgman, wife of Lieutenant Hodgman, V. S. N., as
she appeared at the opening of the East Lake Country Club, and on the right, Mrs. Brutus
! Clay, in the pretty toilette worn at the spring opening tea-dance of the Driving Club.
S urprising or g'n&uty has been
shown In many of the bridal gifts
dowered upon the spring's con
tingent of Newly Weds this year. Of
course, all collections have included
several cut-glass pitchers and bowls,
*ets of knives and forks and spoons
and individual silver pickle forks, but
intermingled with these regulation
gifts which we would miss, by the
way, if they were not included. I have
noted in almost all the w’eddings, ex
traordinarily interesting things. F*rln-
stance, in the array of gifts at the
DuBose-Jones nuptials there was an
"arts and crafts" section, and the
piece de resistence of this collection
was an oblong object of mahogany
and stuffed tapestry, the first Sight
of which had moved the "kid"
brother of the bride to exclaim, "Oh.
a doll-bed." But which really w r as a
charming little footstool. Then at
another wedding, the radium clock—
oh, think of the possibilities of keep
ing up with hubby’s time of arrival
with a clock the figures of which a
marked with radium that shines in
the dark!
Ancestral silver and other belong
ings of former generations have ap
peared in many bridal gift collections
of late. Harriet Calhoun started the
fad, I believe, and in Lula Dean Jones'
gifts were several interesting relics.
A unique gift to Marguerite Ward,
who married not long ago, was a sil
ver cup, presented to her by her kins
woman. Mrs. Robert J. Lowry, and
which had been won by William Ber
ry, of Henry County, the grandfather
of Mrs. Lowry and great-grandfather
of Marguerite, at a Fulton County fa r
in the spring of 1857, if you please!
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his former place in Atlanta's social
life. And, believe me. Dr. Zoepffel
has some place In Atlanta's social
life. Since the day he came amongst
us, and we had such an awful time
learning whether to say Dr. Quellen-
stein or to give him his full titles, et
cetera, by addressing him as Dr.
Zoepffel-Quellenstein, the German
Consul has been a delightful mem
ber of Atlanta social life. He has
given many charming dinner parties
and has enlivened many others by his
genial presence In fact, long since
we have learned that Dr. Zoepffel, of
Quellenstein, is a Jolly good fellow and
we are sorry to see him leave for
more reasons than one. (One of the
reasons is that we expected Dr.
Zoepffel to protect us should that oft-
foretold German invasion of our de
fenseless (?) Atlantic coast line ever
materialize!)
A I>L things come to those who wait,
and the brides of last season have
found that housekeeping respon
sibilities follow the rose-colored days
of honeymooning. One of this inter
esting group of young matrons was
telling her troubles the other day to
some of the brides-to-be. Strange to
say, not a one was dismayed over the
prospect, which afforded more amuse
ment than warning, I am afraid. The
experienced one has only been “keep
ing house" a short while, and the first
affair she gave was a luncheon one
day last week. The ambitious menu
planned included "broiled live lobster."
to be sure. When the lobster arrived,
the young woman was horrified to see
that he she or it—was of a queer
green ' olor. “That lobster is ill," she
decided, so phoned the groceryman to
?nd another lobster, as "something is
wrong with this one.” Bye and bye
another lobster arrived, and he, too,
w as green. The bride became discour
aged. and substituted another dish for
“broiled live lobster." The next day
the ambitious grocer asked what was
the matter with the lobster, explain
ing that he had sent the choicest in
his kennels—or pen—or whatever he
keeps live lobsters in.
“Why, both of those things were
gTeen!" the bride exclaimed. “I want
ed a nice pink lobster!”
\ /OU know how a group of girls will
sit at a table on the club porch
and "talk over” the other tables.
Well, that's what we were doing at
the East Lake Club Saturday after
noon. And this is a part of our con
versation.
"Who is that pretty girl with the
big hat and pink roses?"
"Why. she’s the wife of a ‘new’
naval officer er—Lieut.- Hr—"
"That's the way (with those naval
officers- they always pick pretty
ones." (This from a mere man who
had “butted in" on our gossipy group.)
“Is that man standing by her the
naval officer?" naively asked the
schoolgirl whose older sister had
brought.her out to see a Dlt of fun.
“No, child, the naval officer isTrx
here: that's Will Meador."
"H% picks ’em out; then he lets
'em go about without him; I don't
think these naval fellows are so wise."
(The mere man again.)
“But that man is good looking."
(Ihis from the persistent near-deb.)
"Isn't he as good looking ns the
naval officer?"—still the little one
talks.
And that’s the silly way our con
versation would sound w r ere a pho
nograph on the job. But the fact
remains that I thought Mrs. ‘'Lionten
ant" Hodgman was one of the pret
tiest young women at East Lake Saty-
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