hours in the morning; and while the majority of the vast encampment reposes in slumber, some resolute spirits are fighting the tiger, and a light gleaming from one cottage and another shows where devotees of science are backing their opinion of the relative value of chance bits of pasteboard, in certain combinations, with a liberality and faith for which the world gives them no credit.  And lest their life should become monotonous, the enterprising young men are continually organizing entertainments, mock races, comical games.  The idea seems to prevail that a summer resort ought to be a place of enjoyment.

The White Sulphur is the only watering-place remaining in the United States where there is what may be called an “assembly,” such as might formerly be seen at Saratoga or at Ballston Spa in Irving’s young days.  Everybody is in the drawing-room in the evening, and although, in the freedom of the place, full dress is not exacted, the habit of parade in full toilet prevails.  When King entered the room the scene might well be called brilliant, and even bewildering, so that in the maze of beauty and the babble of talk he was glad to obtain the services of Mrs. Farquhar as cicerone.  Between the rim of people near the walls and the elliptical centre was an open space for promenading, and in this beauty and its attendant cavalier went round and round in unending show.  This is called the “tread-mill.”  But for the seriousness of this frank display, and the unflagging interest of the spectators, there would have been an element of high comedy in it.  It was an education to join a wall group and hear the free and critical comments on the style, the dress, the physical perfection, of the charming procession.  When Mrs. Farquhar and King had taken a turn or two, they stood on one side to enjoy the scene.

“Did you ever see so many pretty girls together before?  If you did, don’t you dare say so.”

“But at the North the pretty women are scattered in a thousand places.  You have here the whole South to draw on.  Are they elected as representatives from the various districts, Mrs. Farquhar?”

“Certainly.  By an election that your clumsy device of the ballot is not equal to.  Why shouldn’t beauty have a reputation?  You see that old lady in the corner?  Well, forty years ago the Springs just raved over her; everybody in the South knew her; I suppose she had an average of seven proposals a week; the young men went wild about her, followed her, toasted her, and fought duels for her possession—­you don’t like duels? —­why, she was engaged to three men at one time, and after all she went off with a worthless fellow.”

“That seems to me rather a melancholy history.”