The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1899-08-25
A Local Paragraph
A'THE time has come for the Amer
BY Edgar Temple Field.

trample its proud folds of crimson and
white into the mire of national dis
honor? Not while the deeds of '76 still
shine through the mists of years in un-
exampled splendor. Not while the
memories of 81 yet live in the hearts
that thrilled with the stress of that he
roic struggle. Not while" Joel
Snively, editor of the Meloogic Mont
tor, laid down his pen with sigh.
Outside the dusty little window the
green waters of the bay were sparkling
in the sunshine. A keen north breeze
was driving great budding masses of
white-shouldered clouds over field of
dazzling azure, and only a man who
loved the sport with the whole-souled
earnestness that filled his entire being
could know how the fish must be bit
ing on such morning! Oh, to be out
on that cleaning eXpanse, armed with
rod and line, with only the sun and
clouds for company and thousand
pounds or so of gamy filmed verte-
brates playing about within reach OF
his cunning hook.
But also, it was Friday morning. On
Saturday some 200 impatient subscrib-
.ers would expect the weekly dish of
personal, political and intellectual
pabulum which his facile pen had long
served up to them on that DAY, with
more or less punctuality, according to
the season. His duty clearly held him
to his post at such time, however
much his inclinations might have led
him elsewhere.
So, with another lingering glance at
the scene without, Mr.. Snively took up
his pen and resumed the stirring APP
peal which was to awaken 50,000,000 pa
triots to action, and incidentally con-
vince the republicans of Meloogic that
it was their duty to vote for Joe Gridley
for poundmaster.
So engrossed did the editor become
in this pleasing task that he did not
hear a step upon the creaking stair
little later If he had he would have
known at once that it was woman and
a lady that was approaching, for long
and awful experience had enabled Mr..
Snively to determine with unerring ac-
curacy what sort of person was
climbing the somewhat perilous ascent
to the editorial sanctum almost as
soon as his foot touched the first step.
But for once the editor did not hear
the soft football on the stair, so he was
very much surprised and not little
disconnected when fresh, sweet voice,
almost at his elbow, said: Good
morning. Mr.. Snively," and looking up
he beheld his neighbor, Mrs. Tracy, her
plump figure buttoned into the trim
NEST of blue serge yachting suits, her
smiling face shaded by wide-brimmed
hat and in her hand fish pole, jointed,
brass-tipped, elegant-the very perfec-
ton of dainty uselessness.
Without waiting for a response to
her greeting she briefly made known
her errand. She was anxious for a
days fishing, and had been told OF an
Elysian spot. where the fish were so
plentiful they were actually to be had
for the asking. Unlucllily, however,
her own boat had not come, so she had
ventured to ask if, in case he was not
using it. Mr.. Snively would be so kind
as to lend her his yawl, it being impos-
.sIble to hire one in the village.
Mr.. Snively was delighted. Mrs.
'Cracy was a pretty widow of uncertain
age but no uncertain charm, who had
taken the cottage next to the editor
own six months before. In the course
of rather desultory acquaintance the
genial bachelor, whose ideas of the fair
sex were those common to his kind, had
discovered that his fair neighbor was
CHEEKY little body of sound political
views and excellent literary tastes
1from the first she had been prompt
and paying subscriber to the Monitor),
but beyond that his imagination had
not scared. Now, however, behold the
pretty widow invested with a wholly
new interest She was fond of fishing!
Eagerly Mr.. Snively assured his Wis
itor of his pleasure in putting his boat
at her disposal and gave her exhaustive
directions as to the means of obtaining
it. A delightful half hour of converse
ton followed. AS though it were ma
pician's wand the dainty fish pole had
placed the editor and his guest at once
on terms of the most charming init
macy anu Illt lOl uIuil iShiSiibSi
ever to have enjoyed a conversation so
much in his life, albeit the talk was
wholly of reels and rods and spoon
hooks and other instruments of slaugh-
ter.
All things, however, are bound to
come to an end, especially in an edi-
torial office, so it wasn't long before
Mrs. Tracy took her leave, escorted
down the stairway by her delighted
host.
At the door they were met by spicy
ibreeze straight from the pine woods
across the bay. Mr.. Snively sighed.
"Where is this wonderful place you
are going top he asked.
''Ah, that's secret" she replied, gay
Iy. 81 promised I'd never, never tell.
''Oh, well, then l suppose it's crime
to even guess" And once more the ed
itor sighed as he glanced out at the
sparkling waters.
s'But you've been so kind" exclaimed
the widow, noting the sigh and imme-
diately filled with conjunction. 1T
seems ungracious of me to keep it from
49,, xybc love en- tO fish - And then as