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Updated: June 25, 2025
The selectman studied it long enough to see that it was an earnest invitation to honor the town of Smyrna with a centennial oration, and that the town would pay all expenses; and the letter was signed, "Captain Aaron Sproul, First Selectman and Chairman of Committee, Per Consetena Tate, Secretary." "I never saw that before," insisted the Cap'n. "Do you mean that you disown it?"
Consetena Tate had unwittingly stumbled upon a solution of that "surplus" difficulty. He wasn't thinking of the surplus. He was too utterly impractical for that. He was a tall, gangling, effeminate, romantic, middle-aged man whom his parents still supported and viewed with deference as a superior personality. He was Smyrna's only literary character.
The Cap'n had shrewd fore-vision as to just how Smyrna would view the expenditure of money in that direction. For the first time, he gazed on his secretary with a sort of kindly light in his eyes, realizing and relishing the part that Consetena was playing. On his own part, Poet Tate welcomed this single gleam of kindly feeling, as the Eskimo welcomes the first glimpse of the vernal sun.
"To make my letters official and regular," explained Mr. Tate, "I've got to have stationery printed with the names of the committee on it you as chairman, per Consetena Tate, secretary." "Go across to the printin'-office and have some struck off," directed the selectman.
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