Many years ago a certain young man met a certain young woman, and the young man was soon completely certain that here was “the only girl”. Ever since the world began young men have singled out young women by a process of selection, not usually scientific or always safe or sane; yet life has continued for many centuries with upward tendencies as a result. This young man’s ancestor, the cave man, would doubtlessly have taken a club (if he had been big enough), knocked down the male members of the family, and dragged the young woman off to his own hole in the rocks. The race has progressed since then, and the family must be approached in a more gentle manner. This young woman had a wide choice. She was bright and lively and pretty, with a long string of attendants. The man was serious-minded and poor, with prospects far from the best. His hearing was failing, and he knew that deafness was inevitable. He had reasoned out the whole situation with the greatest care. Here was the “only girl,” but the cold future lay on ahead. Have the deaf a right to marry? Is it fair to ask anyone to share the results of such an affliction? What he did was to go straight to the “only girl” with the truth. Probably the imps of depression had begun to talk to him even then. No doubt he made his future chances seem harder than he might have done. It is said that John G. Whittier made the same blunder of exaggerated honesty when he offered marriage to another “only girl.” The girl rejected him and Whittier never married. But in our case the “only girl” said that she would “think it over.” Then came the lawn party. The young man was a little late, and dancing had begun when he came and looked through the window. Those were the good old Southern days when we swung about in the old-fashioned waltz; the happy days before the war were still in mind, and we danced to such plaintive tunes as “Old Kentucky Home,” and “Nellie Was a Lady.” The young man outside saw the “only girl” dancing with Henry. Henry was a good fellow, bright and clean; his mother was the richest woman in town. When the music stopped the couple came out onto the lawn. The waiting young man saw them find seats under a tree, back from the lights, where they sat down to talk earnestly. The watcher could think of but one probable topic for conversation. Once as he walked down a path under a lamp they looked at him and he saw the “only girl” smile. He lost all interest in the party. He walked on out along the lonely country road, and like Philip Ray of Enoch Arden, “had his dark hour alone.”