We reach Atlanta the next day about two o’clock, and take up our abode at Markham House, which is conveniently situated opposite the railway station. This is an extremely comfortable and homelike hotel, without any pretence to luxurious entertainment or upholstered grandeur; but we find there a capital table liberally served. We are, however, somewhat dismayed on going to perform our customary ablutions when we find our ewer filled with something strongly resembling pea-soup. We demand water, and learn that this obnoxious liquid is all the water we are likely to get for ablutionary purposes. The table is supplied with something drinkable of a less soupy description, though far removed from the “bright waters of the sparkling fountain;” but for a few days we must perforce be content, and take our mud bath with what appetite we may. There is nothing picturesque or attractive in either of the Atlanta hotels; ours, we are told, is considered second rate, but there is really little difference between them. Both are situated in crowded thoroughfares, and both are within a stone’s throw of the railway station, and are simple structures with no architecture to speak of. The city is built in a rambling labyrinthine fashion, as though it had grown up in a wild way of its own, straggling along here and there, without any set plan or design beyond the convenience of the day. It has pushed itself out in all directions, here pranking itself out in glowing gardens and garlands of green, there rising up in huge brick buildings seven stories high, massed together in blocks, or stretched in long rows, lifting their stony heads high in the air, looking down threateningly and frowningly as though they meant some day to topple over into the narrow street below. It has grown large and strong, and no longer runs in leading-strings, but asserts itself as one of the most important cities of the South. The resources of the surrounding country are developing day by day, being especially rich in the production of cotton of the finest kind, quite equal to that grown on the famous Sea-islands of Carolina. All the varied wealth of the country for hundreds of miles round pours into Atlanta, which in turn distributes it to all parts of the world. This conglomeration of bricks and mortar is not attractive in itself, but is most interesting in its early history, its gradual growth and marvellous development; all within the city limits is full of the stir and bustle of commonplace life, its surroundings are simply lovely and most romantic.