The Stark County Democrat. [volume] (Canton, Ohio) 1833-1912, 1899-11-17

and rods and spoonhooks and other
instruments of slaughter.
All things, however, are bound to
come to an end, especially in an edi-
torial office, so 1t wasn't long before
Mrs. Tracy took her leave, escorted
down the stairway by her delighted
host.
At the door they were met by a spicy
breeze straight from the pine woods
across the bay, Mr.. Snively sighed.
Where is this wonderful place you
are going to?" he asked.
"Ah, that's secret" she replied
gayly. II promised I'd never, never
tell"
"Oh, well, then I suppose it's
crime to even guess" And once more
the editor sighed as he glanced out at
the sparkling waters.
But you've been SO, kind" exclaim-
ed the widow, noting the sigh and inn
mediately filled with conjunction. 1T
seems ungracious of me to keep it from
you who love SO to fish," And then
as she saw him give another wistful
glance hayward she burst out impul-
sively: Promise not to betray me
and I'll tell you-It's Patchang Lake!"
'Patchang!" cried Mr.. Snively in sur
prise. why, never heard Of fish
down there in my life."
That's the charm Of It," she rejoln.
ed gleefully, "and the man who told
me about 1t (such dear, dirty, old
fisherman he was) was fearfully afraid
some one else would find 1t out; SO
don't betray me-" And she hurried
away with parting smile that made
the dusty Office seem duller than
ever when he got back to it and re-
luctantly commenced setting up his
editorials, for Mr.. Snively constituted
the whole working force o. the Moni-
tor.
And his task, too. seemed harder
than ever, after the interruption.
Thoughts of his pretty visitor kept
intruding themselves into the midst Of
his most impassioned apeals to the
voters of Meloogic.
How blue here eyes were and what
bewitching little rings of hair the wind
had blown up under the big hat.
And then the fishing.
The editor of the Monitor shook his
head. Could it be possible any mau
honor as to play joke on woman
who looked like that 1t seemed i'm
| possible and yet Mr.. Snively was as
sure,there wasn't fish within mile
| OF Patchang as he was that there
wasn't a free silver man in Melooglc.
Perhaps then Mrs. Track was sitting
in that yawl vainly waiting for the
bite he felt certain she wouldn't get
II she sat there till the United States
got an honest government. And he
was actually staying at home and de-
liberately abandoning a friend to such
q fate!
AS this agonizing thought occurred
to Mr.. Snively he dropped his type
and started for the door. But once
there ,he paused and slowly returned
to his form, only to find it more and
more impossible TO keep his mind on
his work. ..,s
At last he gave up in despair.
Taking hasty survey of what ted
already accomplished he found his COL
lumns tolerably full, with the eXcep-
tion of perhaps a single paragraph on
the local page. BY hard work the fol-
lowing morning he might hope to set
up his pages and would trust to luck
for the missing paragraph.
Like all fishermen, Mr.. Snively was
firm believer in luck. He was also
man of action when he chose and
within five minutes of this calculation
he had locked up the editorial depart
ment and was on his way to Patchang
Lake.
When he reached that shallow sheet
of water a little lady in blue serge
sat in a boat in the centre thereof.
with an expression OF vlrtuous indig-
nation on her sunbu:nt features.
"What luck?" call9i the editor froif
the shore.
"Luck!" cried The fair sportswoman
dolefully. "There's not enough water
In this lake to catch cold in, much less
fish. All I've got for Ily trouble Is
mighty poor opinion of fishermen In
general ana one dirty one in partica
lar"
"Come over here" said Snive!y. 81
know a pond not thousand niles
away where the fish h:te like mes
quitoes. If you'll try 1t think car
raise your opinion of fishermen before
I'm day older"
'T can't" confessed the widow
hIushinp with anger and modification
"I'm stuck-in the mud"
One moment the man of letters hest
tated on the bank and then, with ar
inward prayer that he might at leas'
be spared to get out that weeks paper
he waded boldly into the expanse o.
treacherous mud that rolled between
him and beauty in distress.
The next morning the editor walkel
into the Monitor office clad in hi
Sunday clothes. With his accustomed
methodical neatness he pulled off hi
| h,oc . hahipH door nnf