The daily dispatch. [volume] (Richmond [Va.]) 1850-1884, 1871-02-06
The Last and Best or the H.ove-rette..r,-,s,.

the Last ANA Best OF the AOTe.Leffefu
A writer in Cnsseus Magazine thinks tht
art of writing love-letters is lost. ,NoW-a
days We correspond" or. e exchange
friendly communications" butfwe dom,
write iove-letters. We. can't; we are toe
business-like for 1t. There Is flavor ol
All complaints to be addressed to the sec.
retary." and "Please quote this number In
your reply" in our best amntOry missives,
and they mainly acquire their distinctive
character by being without margin. We
are too cynical for it; we have grown
ashamed to look sentiment In the face,
much less to make any deliberate record
of its existence in black and white.
We are also little too cautious. 1t
would be horrible to become source
Of amusement to "the jury" Our letters
accordingly are written with an eve to the
confusing of Sergeant Buzfuz, and precious
things of course they are. The average
packet of them returned nowadays after
a quarrel, or locked up after marriage, is
at best but kind of withered apple, hardly
worth the trouble of preserving. A poor
tale Of appointment for seven o. Sundays,
and Of inquiries Tor missing umbrellas-age
can give them no mellowness, and fading
ink no poetry. And the worst are often
those that make a pretensiOn to tenderness.
The force of weakness can no farther go
than in the documentary evidence" some
times cited in the breach of promise cases,
as proofs of the warmth Of the defendants
attachment. Welcome, thrice welcome the
formal 90 Madam, your obedient servant !"
before the detestable liver your LoveY
Dewey"
The only good modern love-let-
ter the present writer remembers to have
seen was one he wrote himself. This may
seem like vanity, but it Is not SO. The let
Ter was the composition of another person,
a bricklayer, who having to mend copper
in n certain house, asked the writer, who
happened to be at home for the holidays,
whether he would mind "doing bit of
writing for him, MS it was some time since
he had handled a pen. The writer assent
ed. The bricklayer produced sheet OF
foolscap from the interior Of his hat. The
writer, fetching a ruler from the library,
covered the paper with even lines. The
bricklayer with premonitory tap of bis
trowel dictated ''Miss." The writer asked
fMiss whatw The bricklayerin some confu-
sion answered "Stokes," but thought there
was ''no call to put that down." The writer
suggested "Dear Miss" The bricklayer
fired up and declared he wasn't going to
knuckle under like that. The writer &C
cordingly set down "Miss" in his best
round hand, with horizontal flourish that
carried the word to the end of the line.
your treatment Of me the other night,
continued the bricklayer, "was too bad.
The caulitiower l gave you at our last
meeting was perfectly fresh, though you
chose to consider it not so. I can be as
proud as you. I did not pick it up after
YOU had threw it down." The writer sug.
eested thrown. The bricklayer asked him
# he was certain about it. The writer gave
him an assurance to that effect. The brick.
layer went on.
~ ask you to let bygones be bygones,
Mary, and will take you to Greenwich.
Why should persons keeping company
have words? The lives of the longest of
Us soon ends in the grave, and what;zYill be
yorr feelings there when you look back on
the 18Th Of August" Here the brieklayer
cleared his throat.
The writer wished to know if he should
20 on. The bricklayer asked Chow he was
of for room?' and suggested that he should
take O measurement. The writer said he
could rule the other side, and this was
done.
"Come, let us be happy together re.
sumed the brcklayer i'll verse; Tor Where
! there's a will there's way, Let your heart
! Jr as light as feather"
Inc NElltI dSheu IL Ills was puo pSsiu
MING Of letter to another person. The
| bricklayer said No, but his composition
| seemed to want something to finish it off
perhaps the writer could think OF line OF
| two himself? The writer meditated. The
bricklayer resumed the setting Of the cop
| per.
=" Il dreamt,'" said the bricklayer, aftel
a pause.
az drcamt' that 'ud do, il could onl!
recolect it,"
"srhat dwelt,'" suggested the writer
| "Thats it," said the bricklayer-
! in m arbe halls
| With vassals and serfs by my side, =,
! Blu. the only thing which pleased me most
Was that you was TO be my BRIDE"
The verse was written, "Yours ODE
dcntly" was added to it, with the brick
! layers name, and the thing was done.