The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1917-10-26

III luciT IVuSc lOT Tie uTSt IiIHC hC 10
filed with boyish delight-and over
anxious that it will be a success. He
is proud of his home and wants to
have it admired; he is proud of his
wife and proud of his friend and wants
them really to like each other. She is
pleasant but just little more digni,
fled than is absolutely necessary:
there is a slight air of constraint; talk
does not flow freely. The fountain OF
his friends wit throws only a timid
tentative spray occasionally and causes
only the faintest splash of half
smile. After the coffee things bright
en- up little and over the cigars the
two talk over old butt is ret q real
trio. When goodnight time comes
and he goes to the dopr and helpS his
friend on with his coat, and they stand
on the steps few minutes, look W
at the stars and discuss the weather
prospects, there seems q note missing
in the music. Both are conscious
of 1T. l
When he hurries back to the dining
room, where they have tarried because
it seemed more comfortable, to hear
the verdict of the jury Of one, he is
disappointed even though he feared 1T
was prejudieed. The first remark,
Hasn't he large hands?' does not
seem really vital but it is significant.
He does get credit for dressing well
but as this was to be expected, it does
not count. He laughs too loudly; he
seems conceited; he mispronounced
four words; he called her husband by
some fiippant nickname; he has such
strange views of religion, she is sure
he is an atheist; there must be- some
thing wrong with his family, he never
mentioned any of them; she would
wager anything there is cruel streak
preston of his mouth. She seems to
have certain pleasure in checking off
the items, seemingly unconscious of
the pain she is giving. In her preju-
diced mood even st. Paul would be dis
qualified had he come in as friend
upon whom the husband depended for
| affection, counsel and comradeship.
In the days that follow the resent
full rebellion stimulated by the defense
and protest helps her to find new flaws
and defects, and the never failing
trickle of comment and criticism may
begin to wear away a rock of friend
ship. The friends visits become short
er as the interval between them grows
longer and then cease. The husband
occasionally meets him downtown and
he chafes at the thought that he is not
treating him squarely; it seems dis
loyal, but he cannot see how to change
| it. He frets at the curtailment of his
freedom; he does not speak of the
| meeting at home. He knows that If he
| should speak it would mean fusilade
| of questions, not of real interest but OF
curiosity, the instinct of being on guard
| like sentry whose duty it is to chal-
| lenge. He does not care to invite the
| inquisition. 1t is sad when q wife,
even through oyerzealous loving, closes
with her own hand the door of her
| husbands confidence; it may rust on
| it's hinges and become difficult to re-
open.
Other friends of his may be dropped
overheard in many ways and for many
| excuses but with the same real rea-
son. One may borrow money, another
| may have bad table manners which
her comments convert into almost a
crime, a third is not tolerated because
| of his wife, and so the catalogue of ex-
tinguishing the lights of friendship
runs on until all the old ones are
snuffed into darkness and forgetful-
ness. The friends then are the new
ones they have made together since
their marriage and her old friends
| that are new to him. They are those
that have not weathered the storms
| and trials of life and been tested and
| found staunch and true.
The old friendships carry with them
| a sentiment deep-rooted in the past, a
sweetness, a tenderness, loyalty, a
| communion of memories and expe-
riences that cannot be duplicated in
after life. They are like old books
| that we have loved for years. The
| binding is worn and smOOthed by our
hands and by dear hands now stilled
| forever; the inscription with the date
| is growing fainter for the eyes to de-
cipher but easier for the heart to read ;
there are passages that helped and in
spired us still Loyalty retaining our
penciled lines so we could turn to
them in perfect confidence whenever
we desire.
There is the thumb-mark that floods
memory with glow of hallowed gold
en- light, for only we know what it
| means. There is the turned down page
| it would seem irreyerence to fold
back; there are dim, dried brown tints
on the margins that somehow suggest
the autumn of our years; there Is the
fern-leaf slipped in that night we shall
never forget while smile is still left
in the heart, and the marrow ribbon
book-mark is faded and erinkled. And
| the whole book lis dear to us and we
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