The Bolivar bulletin. [volume] (Bolivar, Hardeman County, Tenn.) 1865-1888, 1866-06-02
Old sweethearts.

| It is pleasant to meet old friends, but ex
! eeedingly trying to meet an old sweetheart
J Lavender Is notmore trYing" to the com
/ plextiOn of a brunette. Twas IN life s early
/ forenoon that you knew her, when existence
/ Wore mic ce new clothes, dyed in the estab-
! lEhment Of the rainbow Y ou quoted poe
/ try to her by the hour, took moonlight strOlls
and drives, and quoted various little thin IS
addressed to nights luminary By the poets,
! which you found IN the '' Dictionary of
/ Poetical Quotations" and committed to
memory after hours Of painful study Sac
was in raptures, and said you had such a
memOry-you remembered everything you
red. You wore ByrOnical collars In those
davs, cultivated raven mOustache for
which you was indebted to the hair-dver,
! spent a good deal Of time on your hair, which
was inclined to curl, aud was mildly given
/ to gin and water. Sweetheart used to chide
/ you for the latter habit but it was evident to
1 you that you wOUldn't be half the romantic
hero that you was, without little dissipa
ton, so you never "gOt medal" You wrote
unutterable poetry In her album, and gave
her your miniature crimson-Yelvet case. You
dreamed away hours in building atmOspher-
/ ic country seats, in which your sweetheart
/. and you were the only residents, with moth
thing do but wander dInid fiowerv paths
and quote from those impractical writers
styled poets
Years have Outstretched their shadow
wings between" You didn't marry sweet
heart somehow, and love with its stern
realities drove all thoughts of her from your
mind. YoU are brought together again un-
expectedly, and memory, expert telegraph
operator that she is, puts you in instant
communication with olden times. Sweet
heart has faded of course, and so have YOU.
As you doff your hat in salutation, you read
q surprise in her look, and then you remem-
Der that your hair don't curl any more; the
cares Of life have plOwed burrows in your
| GrecIan forehead" as she delighted once
to call it, and time, with his scvthe, has
moved away quite a clearing on the top of
your head. You haven'tan empty hair dye
bottle even, to remind her of the raven
moustache Of other days, and your sandy
beard needs trimming sadly. Sweetheart
laughs at some poorly-executed joke (ghOsts
of that once captivating with, and you per
ceive she has a front tooth gone, andyOu
never noticed before that she had such a
homely profile. You are suddenly and fOrci-
bly, reminded that time is "on the wing"
and you are growing old.
Sweetheart introduces her husband to
you and tells him with a litter, (Which is
painful caricature of her girlish laugh, once
so musical and fascinating you compared
'I6 to the dipping OF plant willows IN the
waterfall, don't you remember?) that you
are an. {" old beau. Then returning to you
she inquiries, q Do you love poetry as much
as you ever didY' Poetry stuff You
put your hand on the Tribune almanac and
affirm that you had not read line of poetry
for years. During the day you go about
your business IN a wandering manner The
old DAYS come back again, and you live in
the past. You go home, and the presence
of yonr family, not at all visionary or un~
real, dispeIs the substantial visions coniured
by unexpectedly meeting "an old sweet
heart"