lion is
not unlike that of the celebrated St. Cecilia Society of Charleston. The
cost of membership is so slight that almost any eligible young man can
easily afford it. There is, however, a long waiting-list. The club is
controlled by a board of governors, the members of which hold office for
life, and who, instead of being elected by the organization are selected
_in camera_ by the board itself, when vacancies occur.

The balls given by this society are known as the Monday Germans, and at
these balls, which are held in the Lyric Theater, the city's debutantes
are presented to society. As in all southern cities, much is made of
debutantes in Baltimore. On the occasion of their first Monday German
all their friends send them flowers, and they appear flower-laden at the
ball, followed by their relatives who are freighted down with their
darlings' superfluous bouquets. The modern steps are danced at these
balls, but there are usually a few cotillion figures, albeit without
"favors." And perhaps the best part of it all is that the first ball of
the season, and the Christmas ball, end at one o'clock, and that all the
others end at midnight. That seems to me a humane arrangement, although
the opinion may only signify that I am growing old.

Another very characteristic phase of Baltimore life, and of southern
life--at least in many cities--is that, instead of dealing with the
baker, and the grocer, and the fish-market man around the corner, all
Baltimore women go to the great market-sheds and do their own selecting
under what amounts to one great roof.

The Lexington Market, to which my companion and I had the good fortune
to be taken by a Baltimore lady, is comparable, in its picturesqueness
with _Les Halles_ of Paris, or the fascinating market in Seattle, where
the Japanese pile up their fresh vegetables with such charming show of
taste. The great sheds cover three long blocks, and in the countless
stall-like shops which they contain may be found everything for the
table, including flowers to trim it and after-dinner sweets. I doubt
that any northern housewife knows such a market or such a profusion of
comestibles. In one stall may be purchased meat, in the next vegetables,
in the next fish, in the next bread and cake, in the next butter and
buttermilk, in the next fruit, or game, or flowers, or--at Christmas
time--tree trimmings. These stalls, with their contents, are duplicated
over and over again; and if your fair guid