roof broken by a delirious display of scroll-work. It is Rebecca Tumlin all over; pride—pride nailed to the grim walls, and vexation of spirit worked into the ornamentation. Yet it is a house that easily catches the eye. It is on a little elevation, and it has about it a certain suggestion of individuality. On the dome of the middle gable a smart and business-like dragon upholds the weather-vane with his curled and gilded tail.
The colonel prospered steadily. He was regarded as one of the most successful business men and financiers the South has ever produced. It is no wonder the Bible parable gives money the name of "talent." It is a talent. Give it half a chance, and it is the most active talent that man possesses. It is always in a state of fermentation; it grows; it accumulates. At any rate, the colonel thought so. His capital carried him into the inner circles of investment and speculation, and he found himself growing richer and richer, only vaguely realizing how the result was brought about.
The receptions at the Asbury mansion were conceded to be the most fashionable that Atlanta had ever seen; for along in the seventies
