The Lancaster gazette. [volume] (Lancaster, Ohio) 1863-1886, 1868-11-05
A Model Love letter.
DYgRspURa, Aug. 5. 1853.

DYERsBURG, Aug. 5, 1868.
My OwN DEAR PLEAs:--Every
time think Of you, my heart hops
mp and down like a charn dasher
Sensations Of unutterable joy ca
per over it like young goats over
stable roof, and drill through it
like Spanish needles through. tow
linen trowscrs. AS gos!ing
swimmeth with delight in mud
puddle, 80 swim in a sea Of glory
Visions of ccStatic rapture, thicker
than the hair Of a backing brush,
and brighter than the bues on a
humming birds piniOns, visit ne
in my slumbcrs, and borne on their
invisible wings. your image stands
before me, and ] reach oct to grasp
it. like an Old pointer swapping at
Il blue botlc fly. Wheel frst be-
held your sanity pcriections was
bcwildercd, and my brain wLjNed
around like bumble.bec under u
glass tumbler; my eyes stood open
like cellar doors iD the country
towns. And | lifted up my ears
to catch the siIvery accents Of your
voice. Ny tongue refused to wag.
and in silent admiration | drank
in the sweet infection of love, as Il
thirsty man swalloweth tumbIcr
Of hot whisky punch. Since the
light Of your face foil upon my lite,
| some times feel as if could lift
myself by my shoe straps to the
top Of church steeple Day and
night you are my thoughts. When
Aurora bIushing like bride,
rises from her saffron couch; when
the jay.bird pipes his tuneluI lay
in the apple tree by the spring:
house; when the chantic!eer's
shrill clarion heralds the coming
morn; when the awakened pig
ariscth from bis bed, and goeth
forth for his.morning refreshments;
when the drowsy beetle wheels his
droning fight at sultry noontidc,
and when the lowing cows come
home at milking time, | think Of
thee. And like a piece Of gum.
elastic, my heart seems to stretch
clear across my bosom. Your hair
is like the name of a sorrel horse
painted with gold, and the brass
slide to your immaculate nccktic
fills me with unbounded ave.
Your forehead is smoother than an
old coat, and whittier than seven.
teen hundred linen. Your eyes are
glorious to behold. In their liquid
depths SEQ legions OF the little Gu
pids battling and fighting like CO.
horts of ants in old army crackers.
Whom their fire hit me full in the
womanly breast, it perforated my
entire anatomy like load of bird
shot would 60 through rotten ap-
pic. Your nose is. from chunk
Of parian marble, and your mouth
Fuckers with sweetness. Nectar
fingers on your lips like honey on
a bears paw, and myriads Of IN
fedged kisses are there ready 10 fy
out of their parent nest and light
somewhere like blue birds. Your
laugh rings on my ears like the
wind barp's strain, or the bieat of
a stray lamb on the bleak hill side.
The dimples in your checks are
like bowers in beds of roses, or like
hollows in cakes Of home made su
gar. l am dying to fly to your
presence, aud to pour out the burn
ing cioquencc of my love as Il Thrift
ty housewife pours out the hot cof
fee. Away from you | am as mel.
ancholly as a sick rat. Sometimes
can hear the June bug of dospor-
dcncy buzzing in my ears, and feel
the cold lizards Of despair crawl
ing down my back. Uncouth fears
like a thousand minners nibbling
at my spirits, and my soul is pierre.
cd through with doubts as an old
cheese is bored by shippers. Ny
love is stronger for you than the
smell Of old butter, swit2cr kase, OF
the kick Of mule. 1t is pu"cr than
the breath of II young crow, and
more unsslish than a kittens first
ca,orwauI. As the song-bird hun
gers for the light Of day, tic eau,
tious mouse for the fresh bacon 10
tho trap, as q lean pup bankers af-
ter new milk, so | long for thee.
You are fairer than aspeckIed pull
let, sweeter than Yankee dough-
nut fixed in sorgum molasscs;
brighter than n top knot plumagc
on the head of Il Muscovia duck.
You are candy-kisscs, rasins.
pound.cakc, and Swcctened loddy,
altogether. If these few remarks
will enable you to see the inside OF
my ooul, and mo to win your atfcc'
tions, | shall be as happy as a
wood .pecker in a cherry tree, or q
stage horse in a green pasture. If
YOU can not rcciprocatc my thrill
ling passion, | will feel terrible
bad, and l will pine away like n
poisoned bed bug, and fall away
from the flourishing vine of life, an
untimely brarch. And in coming
years when the shadows grow long
from tho hills, and the philOsphic
frog sings his evening hymn, you
happy in anothor's loveIcan come
and drop a tOar and toss clod up
on the last resting place OF
ECILA.
IVY M. -, V,rn Ham Dny-