The first rays of the sun
were just touching the top of the Galata Tower and lighting up the dark
cypresses in the palace-grounds above us. The tall minarets and the blue
waves of the Bosphorus caught the golden light, while around Olympus the
rosy tint had not yet faded and the morning mists looked golden in the
sunlight. We rounded Seraglio Point and steamed down the Marmora, passed
the Seven Towers, and slowly the beautiful city faded from our view.
SHEILA HALE.
THEE AND YOU.
A STORY OF OLD PHILADELPHIA. IN TWO PARTS.--I.
Once on a time I was leaning over a book of the costumes of forty years
before, when a little lady said to me, "How ever could they have loved
one another in such queer bonnets?" And now that since then long years
have sped away, and the little critic is, alas! no longer young, haply
her children, looking up at her picture by Sully in a turban and short
waist; may have wondered to hear how in such disguise she too was fatal
to many hearts, and set men by the ears, and was a toast at suppers in
days when the waltz was coming in and the solemn grace of the minuet
lingered in men's manners.
And so it is, that, calling up anew the soft September mornings of which
I would draw a picture before they fade away, with me also, from men's
minds, it is the quaintness of dress which first comes back to me, and I
find myself wondering that in nankeen breeches and swallow-tailed blue
coats with buttons of brass once lived men who, despite gnarled-rimmed
beavers and much wealth of many-folded cravats, loved and were loved as
well and earnestly as we.
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