Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1868-12-15
A Model Love Letter.

My DEAR JERUsHA Every time think of
you my heart fops up and down like churn
dasher. Sensations of unutterable joy caper
over it like young goats over stable roof and
thrill through it like Spanish needles through
pair of linen trousers. AS a gosling swim
meth with delight in a mud puddle, SO swim I
In a sea of glory. Visions of ecstatic rapture.
thicker than the hair of blacking brush and
brighter than the hues on humming bird S
pinions, visit me in my slumbers; and borne on
their invisible wings, your image stands before
me, and l reach out to grasp it, like an old dog
swapping at a blue bottle fly. When first be
held your angelic projections [ was bewildered
and my brain whirled around like humble bee
in glass tumbler. My eyes stood open like
cellar doors in country town, and | lifted up
my ears to catch the siyery accents of YOUR
voice. My tongue refused to wag, and in silent
admiration L drank In the sweet infection of
love, as thirsty man swalloweth a lumber of
hot whisky punch. Since the light of your face
fell upon my life, L sometimes feel as if could
lift myself by my boot straps to the top of a
church-steeple. Day and night You are in nv
thoughts. When Aurora, blushing like bride,
rises from her saffron couch when the iav-
bird pipes its tuneful lay in the apple tree bv
the spring house; when the chanticleer's sbril,
clarion heralds the coming morn; when the
awakened pig arlseth from his bed and urunt
eth and goeth forth for his morning refresh
ments; when the drowsy beetle wheels his dro-
ming flight at sultry noon tide, and when the
lowing COWS come home at milking time. T
think Of thee; and like piece of gum elastic
my heart seems to stretch clean ACROSS my bo-
som. Your hair is like the name of sorrel
horse powdered with gold, and the brass min
skewered through your waterfall filled me with
unbounded ave. Your forehead is smoother
than the elbow of an old coat, and winter than
bleached cotton. Your eyes are glorious to be
hold. In their liquid depths [ see legions of
little Cupids battling and fighting like cohorts
OF ants In an old army cracker When their
fire hit me full on my manly breast, it pcrmeat
ed my entire anatomy, like as load of bird
shot would go through rotten apple. Your
nose Is from a chunk of parian marble. and
your mouth puckered with sweetness. Nectar
fingers on your lips like honey on a bears paw.
and myrlads of unfedged kisses are there ready
to by out and light somewhere like young laws
out of the parent nest. Your laugh RINGS 'a on
my ears like the wind harps strain or the bleat
OF stray lamb On the bleak hillside The
dlmples on your cheeks are like bowers in beds
OF roses, or like hollows in cakes of homemade
sugar. am dying to fly to your presence and
pour out the burning eloquence of my love. As
thrifty housewives pour out the hot coffee
Away from you l am melancholy as sick rat
sometimes L can hear the June bugs of des-
pondency buzzing in my ears, and feel the cold
LIZARDS OF despair crawling down my back
Uncouth fears, like a thousand minnows. nib
bling at my spirits and nay soul is pierced tbro
with doubts as an old cheese is bored by skin
pers.
My love for you is stronger than the smell of
old butter, Swietzer cheese, Or the kick Of
mule: it is purer than the breath of a Young
crow, and more unselfsh than kittens frsf
catterwaul. As the song bird hungers for the
light of day, the cautious mouse for the fresh
bacon in the tray, as lean pup bankers after
new milk, so long for thee
You are fairer than speckled pulet; sweet
er than Yankee doughnut fried in sorghum
molasses; brighter than the topnot plumage on
the head of muscovy duck. You are candy
kisses, pound CAKE and sweet toddy altogether
IF these few remarks will enable YOU to see
the inside of my soul, and me to win your affec
tons, [ shall be as happy as woodpecker in a |
cherry tree, or stage horse in green pasture. |
If you cannot reciprocate my thrilling passion.
L will pine away like poisoned bedbug, and in
coming years, when the shadows grow long
from the hills, and the philosophic frog sings
his evening hymn, you, happy in another love,
IAN come and drop a tear, and toss clod upon
he last resting place of
Julius E. MUGGINs.