er prosperity, but of her sense
of beauty. Before long I have a distinct impression of her. Sometimes,
as with a woman, this first impression has to be revised; sometimes not.
Sometimes, on acquaintance, a single feature, or trait, becomes so
important in my eyes that all else seems inconsequential. A noble spirit
may cover physical defects; beauty may seem to compensate for weaknesses
of character. The spell of a beautiful city which is bad resembles the
spell of such a city's prototype among women.

Some young growing cities are like young growing women of whom we think:
"She is as yet unformed, but she will fill out and become more charming
as she grows older." Or again we think: "She is somewhat dowdy and run
down at the heels but she is ambitious, and is replenishing her wardrobe
as she can afford it." One expects such failings in young cities, and
readily forgives them where there is wholesome promise for the future.
But where old cities become slovenly, the affair is different, for then
it means physical decay, and physical decay should never come to a
city--for a city is not only feminine, but should be immortal. The
symbol for every city should be a goddess, forever in her prime.

Among southern cities Richmond is the _grande dame_; she is gray and
distinguished, and wears handsome old brocades and brooches. Richmond
is aquiline and crisp and has much "manner." But though Charleston is
actually the older, the wonderful beauty of the place, the softness of
the ancient architectural lines, the sweet scents wafting from walled
gardens, the warmth of color everywhere, gives the place that very
quality of immortal youth and loveliness which is so rare in cities, and
is so much to be desired. Charleston I might allegorize in the person of
a young woman I met there. I was in the drawing-room of a fine old
house; a beautifully proportioned room, paneled to the ceiling, hung
with family portraits and other old paintings, and furnished with
mahogany masterpieces a century and a half old. The girl lived in this
house. She was not exactly pretty, nor was her figure beautiful in the
usual sense; yet it was beautiful, all the same, with a sort of
long-limbed, supple, aristocratic aliveness. Most of all there was about
her a great fineness--the kind of fineness which seems to be the
expression of generations of fineness. She was the granddaughter of a
general in the Civil War, the great-granddaughter of an ambassador, the
gr