The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1905-10-13
The Silence
Of EbeneZer
ATale of Arcadian Laconicism
By EROM re H ART

T HIS tale was told me by another
dweller in Arcadia who, like my
self, was an eX-Cockney:
Coming from Cockayne, one of the
peculiarities which has most impressed
me has been the laconicism of Arcadia.
In the land of Cockayne people converse
freely. Those who are not able to con-
verse, talk; those who cannot talk, chat;
and those who are not even up to chat
ting, emit vocal sounds about their
neighbors and their servants. But in
Arcadia taciturnity is the rule, con-
versation the exception. 1t is not un-
usual for five or six intelligent beings
to sit around together in silence for an
entire evening, and then say that they
have had good time" There is moth
ing sullen about this silence. 1t is sim
ply constitutional, or let us call it Gar
cadian."
So all-pervading is the laconicism of
Arcadia that it is at times difficult to OBJ
tain information about even the most
vital events in the Arcadian world
Once, for example. we made our way
back to Arcadia after a winters stay in
trans-montane Outland. When we
alighted at the station we were greeted
by Ebenezer with much the same air as
If we had gone away the day before yes
terday. The very horses seemed to
show as much interest over our return
as did that trusty character. Being only
semi-Arcadian felt weak and morbid
interest in the happenings during our
absence. So proceeded to question the
silent Ebenezer.
Everything all right, E5enezer?"
yep"
Nothing wrong?"
Nope"
Nothing in particular happened?"
mo, nothing"
How is Sirius?"
Dead"
What, Sirius dead! When did he
die?"
Died yasteddy"
Sirius dead. Well, that's too bad.
What did he die OFF,"
Dunno"
This was dreadful blow. Sirius was
a great st. Bernard puppy, with pedi-
gree as long as the Moral Law. He was
so beautiful, so affectionate, so gigantic,
so clumsy and so blue-blooded that |
considered him perfect paragon, a Dog
Star, and therefore named him "Sir
Sirius" When we went away he was
growing like a-well, like a St.
Bernard puppy.
Sirius had grown very dear to me and
very terrible to the other dogs, for this
giant puppy weighed nearly 100 pounds.
He would play with our trembling COL
lie; he would give Don love-taps with
his paw that nearly knocked the poor
cog down; he would leap in the air and
fall playfully on Don, completely fat
tening out that faithful collie for the
moment; in short, his Herculeap
caresses so terrified Don that he was
too scared even to run away reflected
bitterly that only the aristocratic and
high-priced puppies die, and that the
yellow purps always grow up into strong
and lusty dogs. thought of those lines
OF Shakespeare's-let me see, was it
Shakespeare, now?-well, perhaps they
are Milton's:
Il never had piece of bread.
Particularly good aud wide,
But that it fell upon the floor,
And always on the buttered side.''
With sigh went on in my pursuit
of news:
well, we'll, Sirius gone; that's too
bad. Anything else happened, Eben-
ezer?"
Nope"
''How is the heifer?"
(which heifer? The brindle?"
''No. Ox-Eye, the little Jersey"
"Dead."
what, Ox-Eye dead! What was the
matter?"
"Choked."
"Choked? Why. how did she choke ~
Apple"