The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1878-01-12
LETTERS FROM THE PEOPLE.
THIS COLUMN Is OPEN TO ALL.

For The Cecil Wing.
EDITOR CECIL WING Esteemed Friend:
i know that you will excuse any blum
ers or inaccuracies which this article may
contain, for my Heart is broken. Do you
feel at all surprised to learn this fact after
perusing the epistle of the /" Ilustrious -
in last weeks Wing? " He will never again
treat me to Il stesr." Oh heartless John, how
canst thou make that cruel threat? Hast
forgotten that hot Summer day, some three
years since, when | RECALLED and RECALLED thee
upon delicious corn SOUP made by my own
fair hands. Hast forgotten it, ask. An
swer me, ungrateful gormand. Did less
than five gallons of that milk and vegeta-
BILE compound disappear into thy capacious
NAV inside of fifteen minutes? And now
to be told that mag % hungry ere thou
TW dgaIa refresh me ciM an oyster ste3r.
Oh, ''once admirer," if | had thee in my
clutches | would put thee in stew, yea
verify.
"Does not know where the widow lives
Hear him, we bull frogs of Weasel Hollow,
whose music nightly reaches his ear as he
sits with his arm encircling the tlorid and
portly object of his affections.
He mourns that he can not make me
comprehend that my presence was obnox-
louS W Tie oUtc"tS WHO pTeSIueu aI the last
Institute. What cared for officials, whilst
ttou, my bright particular star, vert there
shedding beams of hope and encourage
ment upon me. That baneful widow of
Weasel Hollow had not then filled thy
heart with mercenary dreams; it throbbed
with a true unsulled affection. 1t is the
fear of her wrath which has induced thee
to deny the voyage to Wilmington and the
oyster treat to the enraptured "Model"
and my poor self.
About the selection which Mr.. Biddle
wouldn't let me read. Imagine, for one
moment, that | wished to read, when |
could sit and drink in the sound of thy
enchanting voice, as thou didst thy 'level
best" at annihilating the 9 Books and Book
makers of Bedlam.' Did not "Quilp"
declare i'll his own sarcastic report of said
Institute, that that production was the
literary curiosity of the nineteenth cen
tury." Other things equally as truthful
and sarcastic We're said by that audacious
"Quilp,' and yet he was not obliged to
fly to the Black Hills like my poor cousin
"Jeems." He impudently wrteth on and
on, under his groteSque nom de plume, and
no man saith wherefore.
I" Thou didst not run from the dead Tur-
keys If thou didSt not, pray forgive
me; | was doubtless suffering from an opti-
cal Illusion. | am not surprised to learn of
the sudden, deep respect thou hast devel-
oped for the SCOTS. When man has been
knocked down in a literary, as in per-
Sonal encounter. there remaineth but one
thing for him to do, aud that is to rise up
and make a profound sulaGm to the fellow
who has laid him out. and ever after treat
him with well-tegned regard. John. regret
that did never behold those green laurel
boughs waving athwart thy noble brow,
which thou didst win in the 90 Turkey !"
contest; but often, oh often, have | heard
that sweet song with the wild refrain
"John Calhoun, my Joe John, sung
with uproarious laughter by bearded man
aud reckless school boy from Bulls Noun
tain to head of Elk from Delaware line to
Chesapeake bright waves.
Oh, John, John, periidons admirer, that
/ Summer day over the corn soup, how
sweetly our spirits did seem to mingle.
Now the portly form Of the queen of Weasel
Hollow, for whose sake thou didst invest
in the trailing overcoat. the paper boots,
and patent leather collar, has come be-
tween. In few weeks | retire to con-
vent; what other refuge is left me-
Wreckedly COUSIN SUE.