The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1919-10-10


I ment still irritating. UndeniablM
Fanny Minafer was one Of the people
who drew this conclusion, for she cut
the article out and inclosed it In a
letter to her nephew, having written
on the border of the clipping, II won
der whom it can meant"
George read part of it:
We debate sometimes what Is to be the
future of this nation when we think that
In few years public affairs may be in
the hands of the fin-de-siecle gflded
youths we see about us during the Christ
| mas holidays. Such foppery, such luxury,
such insolence was surely never prac-
ticsd by the scented overSearing patri-
| clans Of the Palatine.s even in Rome's
most decadent epoch. With his airs of
young MILFORD, his fast horses, his gold
and silver cigarette cases, his clothes
from a New York tailor, his recklessness
of money showered upon him by indulgent
| mothers or doting grandfathers. he re-
spects nothing and nobody. He is blase.
If you please. Watch him at social
| function, how condescendingly he deigns
| to select a partner for the popular waltz
or two-step; how carelessly he shoulders
| older people out Of his way, with what a
blank stare he returns the salutations Of
1 6OIu6 OlQ acquaintance WEOm uo may
choose In his royal whim to forget!
One wonders what has come over the
new generation. OF such as these the re-
public was not made. When we compare
the young manhood Of Abraham Lincoln
with the specimens we are now producing
| we see too well that 1t bodies Ill for the
| twentieth century
George yawned and tossed the clip
ping into his waste basket, wondering
why his aunt thought such dull non
sense worth the sending. AS for her
insinuation, penciled upon the border,
he supposed she meant to joke-a sup
position which neither surprised him
nor altered his lifelong opinion of
her wit.
He read her letter with more in
terest:
>. The dinner your mother gave for
the Morgans was a lovely affair. 1t was
last Monday evening, just ten days after
You left It was appropriate that your
| mother, herself an old friend, should as
| semble q representative selection of Mr..
Morgan's old friends around him at such
| a time. He was in great spirits and most
entertaining.
He will soon begin to build his factory
here for the manufacture Of automobiles,
| which he says Is term he prefers to
"horseless carriages" Your Uncle George
| told me he would like to invest in this
factory, as George thinks there Is a fu-
| ture for automobiles; perhaps not for gen.
| eral use, but as an interesting novelty,
| which people with sufficient means would
| like to own for their amusement and the
sake Of variety. However, he said Mr..
Morgan laughingly declined his offer, as
Mr.. M. was fully able to finance this ven-
| ture, though not starting in a very large
| way. Your uncle said other people are
manufacturing automobiles In different
parts of the country with success. Your
| father is not very we'll, though he Is not
actually Ill, and the doctor tells him he
| ought not to be so much at his office, as
| the long years of application indoors with
no exercise are beginning to affect him
unfavorably, but I believe your father
| would die II he had to give up his work,
which is all that has ever interested him
outside of his family. I never could UNI
derstand 1t. Mr. Morgan took your
mother and me with Lucy to see Mod
| jeska in Twelfth Night" yesterday eve
ming, and Lucy said she thought the duke
| looked rather like you, only much more
| democratic in his manner. Hoping that
you are finding college still as attractive
| as ever,
| Affectionately,
George read one sentence In this
letter several times. Then he dropped
the missive in his waste basket to
| join the clipping, and strolled down
the corridor Of his dormitory to Dor
row copy of Twelfth Night" Hav-
ing secured one he returned to his
study and refreshed his memory of
the play-but received no enlighten-
ment that enabled him to comprehend
Lucy's strange remark. However, he
found himself impelled in the direc-
ton of correspondence, and presently
wrote a letter-not reply to his
Aunt Fanny.
Dear Lucy: No doubt you will be sur
| prised at hearing from me so soon again,
| especially as this makes two in answer
| to the one received from you since getting
| back to the old place. I hear you have
| been making comments about me at the
| theater, that some actor was more demo-
| cratic in his manners than I am, which
| do not understand. You know my theory
Of life because I explained it to you on
our first drive together. when told you
1 would not talk to everybody about
| things I feel like the way spoke to you
are able should have true theory Of Ife
| and I developed my theory Of life long.
| long ago.
| Well, here I sit smoking my faithful
briar pipe, indulging In the fragrance of
my tabac as I look out ON the campus
from my many-paned window, and things
are different with me from the way tlsey
were way back in freshman year. oan
| see now how boyish In many ways Mas
then. I believe what has changed me az
| much as anything was my visit home at
| the time ] met you. So I sit here With
| my faithful briar and dream the old
| dreams over as 1t WERE dreaming OF the
waltzes we waltzed together and Of that
| last night before we parted, and you told
| me the good news you were going to live
there, and would find my friend waiting
| for me when get home next summer
I viii be glad my friend will be waiting
for me. am not capable of friendship
| except for the very few, and, looking back
| over my life, remember there were times
| when I doubted II could feel q great
friendship for anybody-especialy girls
| Here In the old place do not believe In
being hail-felow-well-met with every
Tom, Dick and Harry Just because he
happens to be classmate any more than
do at home; where I have always been
| careful who I was seen with. largely on
account Of the family, but alae because
| my disposition ever since my bgyhood has
been to encourage real intimacy from but
| the few.
From several letters from my mother,
| and one from Aunt Fanny hear you are
seeing good deal Of the family since I
left. I hope sometimes you think of the
| member who is absent. gotSa silver
frame for your photograph La New York.
and I keep it on my desk. 1t is the only
gfri:s photograph ever took the trouble
| to have framed, though. an I told yeai
frankly. have had any number OF other
gifls photographs, yet al were only pass-