Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1872-09-17
The Model Love Letter.


and occupied the greater part of
the forenoon. From the evidence
it appears that the parties both live
in or near Onondaga; that Harris
had been a frequent visitor for
about two years and a half at the
house of the PLAINTIFF widow
woman nearly thirty years of age,
with three children. 1t seems to
have been the opinion of the plain
tiff land no doubt she thought so
herself,) that Harris would marry
her; but he (Harris) for some I'M
accountable cause, a few months
ago suddenly discovered that he
loved another young lady better,
and verified this belief a short time
since by marrying that other lady.
Hence this action was brought by
the plaintiff to recover damages, to
apply as q salve to her wounded af-
fcctions. The following tender
epistle, sent by the loving swain,
will interest our readers, and we
recommend it as q model love let
ter:
Ny DEAR Mrs. M.-Every time
l think of you my heart Aops up
and down like q churndasher. Sen
sations of unutterable joy caper
over it like young goats on stable
roof, and thrill through it like
Spanish needles through pair of
tow linen trowsers. AS a gosling
swineth with delight in a mud-pud-
die, so swim l in a sea Of glory.
Visions of ecstatic rapture thicker
than the hairs of backing brush,
and brighter than the hues of a
humming-birds pinions, visit me in
my slumbers; and, borne on their
invisible wings, your manage
stands before me, and | reach out
to grasp it, like a pointer swapping
at blue fly. When l first beheld
your angelic projections I was be-
wildered, and my brain whirled
around like bumble-bee under q
glass tumbler My eyes stood open
like cellar doors in a country town,
and l lifted up my ears to catch the
silvery accents of your voice. My
tongue refused to wag, and in silent
alteration | drank in the sweet in
lection of love as a thirsty man
swalloweth q tumbler Of hot whiskey
punch.
Since the light of your face fell
upon my life, l sometimes feel as if
l could lift myself up by my boot
straps to the top Of the church
steeple, and pull the bell-rope for
singing school. Day and night you
are in my thoughts. When Au-
rora, blushing like a bride, rises
from her saffron-colored couch
when the jay bird pipes his tuneful
lay in the apple tree by the spring
house when the chandeliers shrill
clarion heralds the coming morn
when the awakening pig riseth
from his bed and grunteth, and go
eth forth for his mornings refresh
ments; when the drowsy beetle
wheels to droning fight at sultry
noon-tide; and when the lowing
herds come home at milking time,
l think of thee and like piece of
gum elastic, my heart seems
stretched clear across my bosom.
Your hair is like the main of a
sorrel horse powdered with gold !;
and the brass pins skewered
through your waterfall fills
me with unbounded awe. Your
forehead is smoother than the
elbow of an old coat your eyes
are glorious to behold. In their
liquid depths l see lcgions of little
cupids bathing, like a cohort OF
ants in and oil army cracker.
When their fire hit me upon my
manly breast, it penetrated my
whole anatomy, as q load of bird
shot through rotten apple. Your
nose is from q chunk of Pariar
marble, and your mouth is quicker
ed with sweetness. Nectar fingers
on your lips, like honey on a bears
paw; and myriads of uniledgeC
kisses are there, ready to fly on
and light somewhere, like blu
birds out of their parents nest
Your laugh rings in my ears like
the windharp's strain, or the blea
of stray lamb on bleak hillside
The dimples on your cheeks ar
like bowers in beds Of roses, hol
lows in cakes of homemade sugar
/ am dying to fly to thy presence
and pour out the burning elo
quence Of my love, as thrifty house