The Manitowoc tribune. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1866-1878, 1873-12-25
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CUPID'S ART.


A Model love letter.
1t has recently come to our ears that
former gallant and susceptible young
slocal' of one of our exchanges did once
fall madly in love with well padded and
painted demoiselle who famed the fame
| of the young mans attachment by cool
ing her own. The elimination of the
affair was disastrous but out of the
wreck of matter and crash of words of
love the following touching love-letter
from the enamored swain was preserved.
MY DEAR MISS M.-Every time
think of you my heart fops up and down
like a churn dasher. Sensations of
unutterable JOY caper over it like young
goats on a stable roof, and thrill through
it like Spanish needles through pair of
tow linen trowsers. AS a gosling swim
meth with delight in mud puddle, SO
swim I in a sea of glory. Visions of
ectstatic rapture thicker than the hair of
backing brush, and brighter than the
hues of humming birds pinions, visit
me in my slu2nbers and, borne on their
invisible wings your image stands before
me, and I reach out to grasp it like
pointer swapping at blue bottle fly.
When I first beheld your angelic perfec
tions I was bewildered, and my brain
whirled around like bumblebee under
a glass tumbler. Ny eyes stood open
like celler doors in country town, and
lifted up my ears to catch the sivery
accents of your voice. My tongue re-
fused to wag, and in silent alteration I
drank il, the sweet infection of love as
thirsty man swalloweth tumbler of hot
whiskey punch.
Since the light of yonr face fell upon
my life, I sometimes feel as if 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 Aurora,
blushing like bride, rises from her
saffron-colored couch when the jay bird
pipes his tuneful lay in the apple tree by
the springhouse, when the chandeliers
shrill clarion heralds the coming morn !;
when the awakening pig ariseth from his
bed and grunteth, and goeth forth for his
mornings refreshments /; when the
! tlrowsy beetle wheels to droning fight
ar sultry noontide and when the lowing
herds come home at milking time, /
think of thee and like a piece of gum
elastic, my heart seems stretched clear
across my bosom. Your hair is like the
name of sorrel horse powdered with
gold and the brass pins skewered
through your waterfall fill me with I'M
bounded awe. Your forehead is smooth
er than the elbow Of an old coat your
eyes are glorious to behold. In their
liquid depths see legions of little GU
pids bathing, like cohort of ants in an
old army cracker. When their fire hit
me upon my manly breast, it penetrated
my whole anatomy, as a load of bird shot
through rotten apple. Your nose is
from a chunk of Parian marble, and your
mouth is buckered with sweetness.
Nectar fingers on your lips like honey on
a bears paw and myriads of unfedged
kisses are there, ready to fly out and
light somewhere, like blue birds out of
their parents nest. Your laugh rings in
my ear like wind harpsstrains or the bleat
of stray lamb on bleak hill side.
The dimples on your cheeks are like
bowers in beds of roses, hollows in cakes
of homemade sugar.
I am dying to fly to thy presence, and
pour out the burning eloquence of my
love, as thrifty housewives pour out hot
coffee. Away from you am as melan-
coly as a sick rat.
Sometimes I can hear the June bugs
of dependency buzzing in my ears, and
feel the cold lizards of dispair crawling
down my back. Uncouth fears, like a
thousand minnows, nibble at my spirits;
and my soul is pierced with. doubts as an
old cheese is bored with shippers.
My love for you is stronger than the
smell of Coffey's patent butter, or the
kick of young COW, and more unselfish
than kittens first caterwaul. AS a
song bird bankers for the light of day,
the cautious mouse for the fresh bacon
in the trap, as mean pup bankers after
new milk, so I long for thee.
You are fairer than a speckled pullett,
sweeter than yankee dough-nut fried
in sorghum molassas, brighter that top
knot plumage on muscovy duck. You
are candy, kisses, raisins, pound cake
sweetened toddy altogether.
If these few remarks will enable you
to see the inside of my soul, and me to
win your affections, I shall be as happy
as woodpecker on cherry tree or
stage horse in green pasture. If you
can not reciprocate my thrilling passion,
I will pine away like apoisoned bed-bug
and fall away from afourishing vine of life,
an untimely branch /; and in the coming
years, when the shadows grow from the
hills, and the philosophical crow sings
his cheerful evening hymns, you, happy
in another's love, can come and drop a
tear and catch cold upon the last rest
ing place of
Yours afectionately. ~
A CURIOUS circumstance is mentioned