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The Bride and—
W E have not Fad many big wed
dings recently, but, at any
rate, we can count one more real,
sure enough wedding in our lives
with the past week's record.
To be sure, Marion Atchison's
marriage to Edward Swift was
characterized by the usual hurry
up proceedings hecause of the war,
but yoil never would have known
it from the pxrfection of all de
tails and the smoothnes with which
the beautiful ceremony came off.
It was one of the most success
ful weddings Atlanta has ever
Known—brilliant and beautiful and
full of pleasure and delight to
everyone present.
. ‘The young bride, absolutely fear
less of any rival beauty, had sur
rounded . herself with a circle of
the prettiest girls in this town and
others as bridesmaids—and her
fearlessness was justified.
Seldom has Atlanta seen a love
lier Svide than Marion made—hap-
Py and dignified and a little solemn
looking, but quite natural and
wearing the gorgeous trappings of
Wwhite satin and duchess lace and
orange blossoms and orchids most
becomingly.
“The usual composed bride and
agitated bridegroom,” said the offi
ciating minister after the ceremony
‘He added that it was nearly al
ways thus—the groom seemed less
able to stand up under the batterv
of several hundred eyes than the
bride, even though fortified by @
uUniform and martial training.
But one could see few signs of
agitation in young Mr. Swift, and
he was certainly quite calm in the
afternoon, dri.king his tea and
dancing with the maid of honor
out at the Driving Club tea-dance.
Anyway, all of Marion’s friends
tell deeply in. love with the modest
young bridegroom in his dark blue
“flfloflno! an ensign in our coun
-Ir¥'s navy—fell in love with him
B lowgly diamond set in plati
e .
num, which he said, “is no\t too
large to keep her from having a
good time.”
Now, if Edward lives up to that
generous remark he will make a
wonderful husband, won't he?
cToLo
The Bridesmaids and—
HEI.EN McCARTY is fully jus
tified in wondering if she will
get as magnanimous and kind a
husband as her chum, for it was all
quite settled, at Marion’s wedding,
that Helen would be the next
bride
She caught the gorgeous bouquet
of pale pink butterflies—or Cattleya
orchids, I believe they say the
fiowers \\'el'ra»’nd she found the
little blue matrix finger ring in her
slice of wedding cake. \
So what else?
And this futureé husband probably
will be an ensign or something else
—and will take another girl away
—for Helen is going to spend the
rest of har yvoung ladyhvod “with
Marion’”™ @se replied thus when
somecu® of the ‘many- curious ones
asked her what she expected to do
when Marion got married and left
her.
I shouldn’t wonder if there
weren’t lots of brides-to-be in the
group of girls who “attended” young
Mrs. Swift—they certainly looked
lovely enough to “catch” a hushand
—anyone of them!
Dorotlgy Arkwright, finding a lit
tle blue thimble in her cake, imme
diuth;- lost heart, until someone
suggested that she avoid the hoodoo
by deciding which one she wanted
to take. So maybe that little blue
thimble will be some fortunate
young man’s luck-piece yet.
The two little “twin bridesmaids”
at the wedding did pot come in to
gether, after all, but they stood near
each other during the ceremony,
and on looking real close at the
dainty figures in flesh-colored tulle
and satin, with girdles of rose and
pink and lavender and big bouquets
of all these colors, 100, even the
‘merest acquaintance of Patty Mc-
Vo2t i :
BEAUTIFUL ATLANTA BRIDE AND HER ATTENDANTS
: Reading from left to right, Miss Betty Hoyt, of Chicago, 111, Miss Julia Murphy, Miss Dorothy ArKwright, Mrs. Jerre 1.
Osborne, matron of honor; Mrs. Edward F. Swift, the bride, f ormerly Miss Marian Atchison; Miss Helen MeCarty, maid of
honor; Miss Mattie Lamb, of Norfolk, Miss Reba Wilson Gray, of Nashville, Tenn., and Miss Patty MeGehee, This marriage
was the social event of Wédnesday evening, and took place a t the Georgian Terrace, in one o the most picturesque settings
resembling a cathedral. The attendants carried cascade bouquets composed of yellow snapdragons, pink roses in the light and
deeper shades, combined with Parma violets. The bride earried a bouquet of pink Cattleya orchids and valley lilies, show
ered with valley lilies.
Gehee and Reba Gray could tell
them apart.
Said one yonng person of this
couple's striking resemblance:
“They certainly do look alike, but
I believe Miss Gray hasa prettier
‘mouth.”
! «“yes,” responded another, “but
Patty has the cutest back!”
And after everything was said and
done, the bride positively refused to 5
* slip off by the back stairs.
“I want to tell everyone good
bye,” she said.
So in her trim little blue gown,
with a spring hat of dark blue and
Kolinsky furs, Mrs. Edward Swift,
Jr., appeared among her friends and
shook hands with everybody-—like
the sensible young woman she is.
She saw no reason why a bride
should slip down the back stairs
and out, anyway—besides, there
weren’'t any back stairs!
soun \
The Men Guests— -
I T being cusomary to tell all
about she women guests at a
wedding—and , every other writer
on social news in this town having
gotten the start on jme, .and told
about the women wedding guests—
-1 suppose I shall have to put my
attention on the men. .
I've had harder things to do
in my life. J
Well, although this wedding was
a naval wedding instead of an army
w&}!&. as were all the rest we've -
Sunday>y.. N American
e ot S D oot e el
ATLANTA, GA. SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 10, 1918
had this season, it was noticeable
that the army was still predomi
nant in the matter of men guests,
if*not of bridegrooms.
« In fact, 1 remember only one
other representative of ‘“‘the navee”
among those present; except the
bridegroom. Of course, you re
member him, too—Edward Lamb,
I mean, son of Mr. and Mrs. Ed
ward T. Lamb, and won't to travel
in his papa's private car—yet go
ing about now in the simpel uni
form of a naval private—whatever
they call 'em—sailor boys, I believe
it is.
Edward was resplendent, at that,
though he did look somewhat like a
post which had long been standing
in the drifting snow, with a little
round cap of snow on top.
“But somebody had to be a priv
ate in this war,” said Edward. (Or
perhaps ’twas ‘‘sailor,” he said.)
To go from the ridiculous to the
sublime—no, 1 won’t call any of
Uncle Sam's fighting uniforms ri
diculous—not even the white cap
of the navy—.
So I will begin this sentence
again: To go from the impres
sibly simple to the—er—‘“simply
impressive,” I will skip over the
usual khaki-clad guests, from Ed
ward the sailor to the captain in
the French army, who had worn,
in honor of this occasion, all the
wonderful - things that a French
army officer can wear—red trous
g«: ‘and horizon blue coat and gold
shoulder straps, and the Cross of
the Legion of Honor and the Croix
de Guerre, and so on.
And, oh, yes, I believe nobody
hag mentioned that pretty Anna
Case dropped in to see the fun,
when she had finished singing at
her concert. Anna is a boy some
times, you know—when shg is (Hl~‘
da, in Rigoletto, for instance—but
she wasn't at the wedding-—she
wasn't even an opera singer at the
wr-dc{ing——she was just a young
woman full of eager interest in the
bride and the clothes, like all the
rest of the girls.
Which reminds me, of an inci
dent in Anna C'ase’s life which she
does not know about at all. It was
the Jast times He appeared here
with the Metropolitan Opera Com
pany, you remember, and was very
charming in her boy's make-up for
the evening of her appearance.
Looking at her closely through
her opera glasses a certain young
Atlanta matron who does not read
Musical America very regularly,
made languid comment:
“That’'s a pretty boy!"
And her husband agreed with
alacrity:
“Yen, slie ist”
G oOn
A Gibson Girl—
IT'S been some tinwe since we
counted over our gains and
losses In the personnel of that
ever-chauging circie, brought here
and taken henx by the more or
less stern dictatés of Mars,
So we will begin again, espe
cially as our gains have exceeded
our losses of late. Indeed, except
for the youpg ensigns who have
stepped in and carried off some of
our own girls as brides, we have
not lost out by these shiftings of
the war machine of late,
Among the gains we may count
some young and ‘charming wives
of aviation men. = You know,
aviation is the acknowledged fa
vorite branch of the service for
that type of yQung men who have
charming young wives—or are apt
to have,
Among these who have fallen—l
beg pardon for using such a word
in connection with an aviator—
who have dropped into—no, who
have arrived in our midst, is Mrs.
George B. Post, of New York.
Mrs. Post ig the daughter of
Charles Dana Gibson, and vyou
would almost know it hy looking
at her. You may think lam mak
ing this up, but it is really true
that when Mrs. Post arrived, wear
ing a big black hat with the wide
brim slightly indented, just over
the left eye, the indentation hold
ing a small red rose in place,
some one seeing’' her, promptly
made the following remark:
“That girl looks exactly like a
magazine cover drawn by Charles
Dana Gibson.” :
Now what do you think of that?
Mrs. Post is of the tall, stately,
handsome type, with vivid color
ing and an artistic style of dress
ing which makes her look pictur
esque at all times. She has al
most no resemblance, 1 am told by
a Virginia lady who knew the
Langhornes on their native heath.
to her mother's people the famous
Southern sisters' who went abroad
in the land and everywhere they
went conquered as soon as seen,
The Langhornes are of the slen
der Southern type, whilst Mrs.
Post, as said, ig of. the sturdier,
more yivid type that one usually
sees in the North. .
She ig a highly accomplished and
talented young woman, I under
stand-—*“Speaks French better than
I do,” acknowledges little Mrs.
Gating, her oldest friend in At
lanta, because she was a friend
when unmarried ; herself and liv
ing in Paris, where Irene Lang
horne was a schoolgirl at one of
those famous old French pensions.
Mr! and Mrs. Post have Jjoined
most pleasantly in Atlanta society
and are very charming additions
which Atlanta is hoping will not be
taken away about the time they
meet everybody, at the Driving
Club dinner-dances.
Coaa
The Bishop’s Camouflage—
Tmm there are Bishop Rem
ington and Mrs. Remington,
who have already made quite a
place for themselves in Atlanta,
And it may be taking liberties to
say 00, but it seems to me no bish- |
op should look as young as does
Bishop Remington,
How he looked in his bishop's
robes I can’t say, but in his ‘regi
mentals,” [ should estimate the
bishop’s age, with the usual easual
eyve, and about four feet uway, as
not oyer 19, at best, He looke 18,
but T would give him a year, so as
to be on the safe side.
This is really true—no an.gger-'
ation—-I want to impress upon yon
who do not know by. sight your
selvas, so that you will not do Mrs.
Remington an injustice, -w.gx e
v 5 2 3
rusing the following littie anees
dote, told by that lady herself 'to
a group of friends thefother’mf‘
You must understand that it,.is
not because she looks any ow
than a graclous charming wlfd‘fi?
a bigshop should look, but that the
bishop—as aforesaid—. _—
Bishop and Mrs. Remington
hoarded a car, and as it was a
Peachtree car, it was crowded, of
course, and there heing only one
vacant seat the lady took it whilst
her husband stood beside her. A
saucy little deDutante shared the
seat with the bishop's wife.
The little debutante's bright dyes
had noted the slim, youthful logk
ing soldier—to be sure, to be e
—and prelbty soon, when some@he
got off, she saw a chance to 5
a hit with the soldier boy. 8o
she tufned to the lady heside §er
and sweetly said: it
“I'l take that seat across §he
alsle so that your son can sit e
with you.” 2
Now, Mrs. Remington, knowsfg
how exceedingly youthful lookjs
her “son” is, smilingly accepted ghe
debutante’s offer and forgave §er
on the spot. ¢
Which proves what T said a 0t
the bishop’s wife— that she i I
very gracious, charfming lady—§gd
doesn’t look old at all—“tp hifle
a grown son!” e
But I can even beat this, on he
bishop’s seeming youthfulness. ‘
night of his arrival someone pags
ed a group of ladies and poin
out the newcomer, ¥
“See that young m\.’m in khikt
over there; he's the son of tHe
bishop of Minnesota.” ‘
And all the evening the bisl ,a
passed for his own son! d
SOO ‘i
A Masterpiece— i
A GOOD thing but not mine own
is the allegory herein belgW
printed. You know George Je -
Nathan, the writer, whose thefls
is always the frivols, fads and Sk
Continued on Pags 6, Colunin 2
> P, ey i...' i ',‘lx'.:ai,:!‘f