The old sneer at Solon's Boss-ship was again to
be observed on every hand, that attitude of doubting ridicule,
half-playful, half-contemptuous, which your public man finds more
dangerous to his influence than downright hostility would be.
But the murmurs were again stilled, and Solon might breathe the peace of
a golden age when as yet no Potts, male or female, had come unto us.
It was not felt at all that Solon's genius for the discretion of public
affairs had availed him in this latest crisis. But the benefit was
substantial, none the less, and the columns of the _Argus_ were again
buoyant as of yore. It was at this time, I remember, that the _Argus_
first spoke of our town as "a gem at beauty's throat," and, touching the
rare enterprise of our citizens, declared that, "If you put a Slocum
County man astride a streak of lightning, he'd call for a pair of
spurs."
For myself, I frankly mourned Potts. For I saw now that he had been
truly and finely of that Greek spirit--one accepting gifts from the gods
with a joyous young faith in their continuance. I felt that he had
divined more of the lesson of Greek art than his one-time love could
write down in papers unending.
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