The Hickman courier. [volume] (Hickman, Ky.) 1859-current, 1878-03-08
My First Love Letter.
RY oRAoE eREENwoop.

4 By GRACE GREENWOOD.
Have ever told you, Nell, of my frs
love letter? presume not. 1t is
story l have not been very fond of tell
ing. But years bring to me, if not phil
osophy, comfortable sense of the com
ical in regard to all early illusions anC
disillusions.
The moment of opening and reading
the first love letter is thrilling, an au
gust point of time in which all the sprins
tides of passionate young life seem Il
meet in a swift, dizzying whirl of emo
tion. If from the right man, what tri
umphant JOY If from snitor one car
not smile on, what sweet pain But you
know all about it, dear.
l was very young when received my
first love letter-indeed, not permanently
out of short frocks and the bread-and
butter age.
Having lived the greater portion OF
my life in the country, the companion oil
my brothers, was desperate romp and
| gypsy, delighting to roam the fields and
the woods, preferring the fishing rod TO
the needle and even the stable to the
parlor. As yet, a fine horse was the rival
Of all mankind in imy young affections.
Still l had read Scott, Edgeworth,
Hemans and L. f. L., with an occasional
ztealthy dip into Byron, and had my
own foolish little romantic dreams of my
hero, my fairy prince, who was to come
in loves geo time.
I used to dream of him, as 1 sst ike
little Ellie, among the alders, with my
feet in the brook, or as L rode along in
the woods. thought little of his pedi-
gree, but I resolved that he must have
a pstrician Greek profile, dark blue eyes,
and black curling hair, coming down on
his lofty brow in 2 Byron peak
made no account of houses or lands in
loves Arcadia; but my hero must pos
sess 2 fine horse. The " steed of steeds,"
was sine qua non.
The removal from country to town
was an absolute sorrow to me, with my
nature-loviDg heart, and wild tree habits.
I hated the busy monotony, the thronged
Loneliness, the dull whirl of city life. I
could Only console myselfwith occasional
flights back into my old rural haunts.
From the longest, toughest tramps l re-
turned refreshed, prepared to endure
oo,,1I not cr,r
/" came out prematurely and tenn
porarily when was scarcely fifteen, on
the occasion of a large wedding party.
I wore long dress and white kid gloves
fer the first time. Ny hair was curled.
On, the torture of night and the hide
usness OF day in curled papers I
wore natural flowers and carried large
bouquet.
Distressingly difident, not TO say
awkward, I early in the evening retired
to a deep window seat, where remained
watching the merry groups of wedding
guests, and listening to their easy chat
ter, with childish wonder and delight.
Among the gayest of the gay was
certain fair young lady whom I had
known for some time as my double.
Not that she was in the least like me-
She was a blonde-very much blonde
while l was a very brunette. She was
distinguished for sumptuousness Of attire,
and dress was not then, any more than it
is now, my besetting sin, or peculiar
virtue, which ever you incline to esteem
it. But, oddly enough, this fair lady
bore my name precisely, surname and
baptismal used to think the circum-
stance annoyed her, almost as though l
had stolen the fashion of her Partisan
bonnet, or the pattern of her costly
embroidered shawl. Aside from the
name there was little in common between
US, certainly no love. At this party she
quite outshone the bride. / found it
curious to watch her
Her Iightness aud brightness did shine with
which was all very proper, she being a
rich tallow chandler's daughter.
But not long did 1 watch my double,
for, my dear, at this very party saw
him, my ideal hero, my fairy prince
Frem all that goodly company 1 singled
linn out glance. There were the dark
blue eyes, there was the Greek profile,
the black curly hair the Byron peak
and all.
Imagine the emotions of your friend
when to her secluded window-seat this
very young gentleman was brought and
presented SIS ''Mr. John Trevalyan," If
it wasn't just Trevalyan, it was quite as
respectable name. The John Pll stand
by.
for a bright, wondrous half hour,
precisely as though / had been full
grown belle; and [, under the spell of
his pleasant hattery, fell in with the
little make-belief, and chatted away,
quite at ease, and said some things that
were really not so bad. Yet, when spoke,
It seemed to me it was some one else
talking in a second double. My very
voice had an unfamiliar sound.
Mr.. Trevalysn talked of poetry, art,
music. and flowers, in low, sweet, be-
euiling, particular way, alter the manner
of his kind. He said, of all the file arts,
his enthusiasm was decidedly for sculp-
ture. $50 cold, so pure, so exalted" and
he be gged to know il 1 shared his aesthetic
preference. 1 suppose, if had been
properly trained, or year or two older, 1
might have answered: " am enraptured
with Beethoven, Mozart, Henry
Russell, and the Seguins; I dearly love
srt--Tition, Michael Angelo, and Benjs-