be off again. Like a thoroughbred, she
loves the chase. She goes in to win. She doesn't stop to worry about
whether she can win or not. She knows she will. And as the thoroughbred,
loving large and astonishing achievement, lacks the humbler virtues of
the reliable family carriage horse, Atlanta, it cannot be denied, has
"_les defauts de ses qualites_." For whereas, on the side of dashing
performance, Atlanta held a stock fair which, in one year, surpassed any
other held in the South, and secured the grand circuit of races, on the
other side she is careless about hospitals and charities; and whereas,
on the one side, she has raised millions for the building of two new
universities (which, by the way, would be much better as one great
university, but cannot be, because of sectarian domination), on the
other, she is deficient as to schools; and again, whereas she is the
only secondary city to have an annual season of Metropolitan grand opera
(and to make it pay!) she is behind many other cities, including her
neighbors, New Orleans and Savannah, in caring for the public health.

I am by no means sure that the regular spring visit of the Metropolitan
Grand Opera Company may be taken as a sign that Atlanta is peculiarly a
music-loving community. Indeed, I was told by one Atlanta lady, herself
a musician, that the city did not contain more than a thousand persons
of real musical appreciation, that a number of these could not afford to
attend the operatic performances, and that opera week was, consequently,
in reality more an occasion of great social festivity than of devout
homage to art.

"Our opera week," she told me, "bears the same relation to the life of
Atlanta as Mardi Gras does to that of New Orleans. It is an
advertisement for the city, and an excuse for every one to have a good
time. Every night after the performance there are suppers and dances,
which the opera stars attend. They always seem to enjoy coming here.
They act as though they were off on a picnic, skylarking about the
hotel, snap-shotting one another, and playing all manner of pranks. And,
of course, while they are here they own the town. Caruso draws his
little caricatures for the Atlanta girls, and Atlanta men have been
dazzled, in successive seasons, by such gorgeous beings as Geraldine
Farrar, Alma Gluck, and Maria Barrientos--not only across the footlights
of the auditorium, mind you, but at close range; as, for instance, at
dances at the Driving