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.