The Monitor. [volume] (Woodstown, N.J.) 1884-1892, 1885-06-12
MY FIRST ~IOVE-EETTER.

Have | ever told You, Nell, of my first
love-lctter? | presume not. 1t is a story
| have net been very fond of telling. But
years bring to me, if not philosophy, a
comfortable sense of the comical in regard
to all early Illusions and disillusions.
The moment of opening and reading the
first love-letter is q thrilling, an august
point of time, in which all the spring tides
of passionate young life seem to meet in a
swift, digging whirl of emotion. IF from
the right man, what triumphant joy IF
from a suitor one cannot smile on, what
sweet pain, But you know all about it,
dear.
/ was very young when / received my
first love letter-indeed, not permanently
out of short frocks and the b~read-and-but-
ter age.
Having lived the greater portion of my
life in the country, the companion of my
brothers, | was a desperate romp and
gypsy, delighting to roam the fields and
the woods, preferring the fi~shing-rod to the
needle, and even the stable to the parlor.
AS yet, a fine horse was the rival of all
mankind in my young affections. Still, /
had read Scott, E%dgeworth, Hermans, and
L.. e. L., with an occasional stealthy dip
into Byron, and had my own foolish little
romantic dreams of my hero, my fairy
prince, who was to come in Loves good
time.
| used TO dream of him, as | sat like little
Ellie, among the alders, with my feet in
the brook, or as | rode alone in the woods.
| thought little of his pedigree, but | re-
solved that he must have a patrician Greek
profile, dark blue eyes, and black, curling
hair, coming down on his lofty brow in a
Byron peak. | made no account of houses
or lands in Loves Arcadia but my hero
must possess a fine horse. The ''steed of
steeds' was a sine qua non.
Our removal from the country to own
was an absolute sorrow to me, with my ma
ture-loying heart and wild, free habits. |
hated the busy monotony. the thronged
loneliness, the dull whirl, of city life. |
could only console myself by occasional
flights pack into my old rural haunts.
From the longest, toughest tramps / re-
turned freshened, prepared to endure what
| could not cure.
''came out prematurely and tempo
rarily when | was scarcely fifteen, on the
occasion of a large ~wedding-party. | wore
a long dress and white kid gloves for the
fret time Nv J,aSr IaIrlaI al, H.
torture of a night and the h~ideousness of a
day in curl-papers! | wore natural flow
ers, and carried a huge bouquet.
Distressingly diffident, not to say awk-
ward, | early in the evening retired To a
deep window-seat, where | remained watch
ing the merry groups of wedding-guests,
and listening to their easy chatter, with
childish wonder and delight.
Among the gayest of the gay was a Ger
tain fair young lady, whom | had known
of for some time as my double. Not that
blonde-very much blonde-while | was a
very brown brunette. She was distin-
guished for sumptuousness of attire and
dress was not then, any more than it is
now, my besetting sin, or peculiar virtue,
whichever you incline to esteem it. But,
oddly enough, this fair lady bore my name
precisely, surname and baptismal. | used
to think the circumstance annoyed her, al
her Partisan bonnet, or the pattern of her
costly camel s-hair 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.
aHer lighiness and brightness did shine with
such splendor,'
which was all very proper, she being 4 rich
tallow-chandler's daughter.
But not long did | watch my double, for.
my dear, at this very party | first saw lin
my ideal hero-my fairy prince. From
all that goodly company | singled him out
at a glance. There We're the dark blue
eyes. there was the Greek profile, the black
curly hair, the Byron peak and all.
lnhtSihC lhS u yphi
when to her secluded w~indow-seat this very
yonng gentleman was brought by her host
ess and presented as "Mr. John Treval-
yam" If it wasn't just Treyalyan, it was
quite as respectable a name. The John
I'll stand by.
Well, he stood by me and talked to me
for 4 bright. wondrous half hour, precisely
as though | had been a full-grown belle
and |. under the spell of his pleasant flat
terry, fell in with the little make-believe,
and chatted away, quite at my ease, and
said some things that We're really not so
bad. Yet, when | spoke, it seemed to me
hat some one else was speaking-a second
double. My very voice had an unfamiliar
sound.
Mr.. Trevalyan talked of poetry, art,
music, and flowers, in a low. sweet, beguil-
ing peculiar way, after the manner of his
kind. He said, of all the fine arts, his en-
thusiasm was decidedly for sculpture, $50
cold, so pure, SO exalted" and he begged
to know if shared his aesthetic preference.
| suppose if | had been properly trained,
or a year or two older, | might have an
swered II am enraptured with music