The mirror. (Stillwater, Minn.) 1894-1925, 1896-06-04

go out into the world, to see life, to be-
come independent and ones own mas
ter, to make fresh friends and cultivate
new pursuits; but, with very few ex-
ceptions, the first love is the deepest,
and one is never happier than in the
occasional flying visits one pays to
ones home and the old associations
which are so inbred in ones nature
that they can never be altogether out
grown. And the letter from home,
which would be so hopelessly dull to
everybody but the one for whom it is
intended, is full of pleasant little facts
and thoughts and touches which grip !
one far more than the finest periods or
most flowing phrases of the literary
letter writer.
And then come the letters from
friends-relatives they may be, broth.
ers or sisters, or simply early, faithful
friends, with whom one is permitted
that splendid solace Of intimacy, from
whom one may always rely upon get
ting sympathy when it is most needed,
and to whom one is ever ready to ex-
tend sympathy. The man or woman
who has not really intimate friend
lacks the salt of life.
Nearly all of us, however, enjoy that
luxury of a special friend who under
stands and is understood by us, who is
interested in our ideas as we'll as our
acts, who watches every stage of our
career as we watch his, and who can
interchange thought and experience
incessantly. His letters are eagerly
looked for, and, strange to say, are al
most eagerly answered.; and they do
not find an early resting place in the
wastepaper- basket, which receives the
periodical "clearings- up" of other cor
respondence.
The only dark side to the pleasure of
receiving letters is that it involves the
necessity of writing them. Even at its
best letter.writing is irksome to most
of us. There is always the physical
exertion of writing to be reckoned
with, and there can hardly be any per-
son who does not find this something
1 of toll. To exchange ideas and to
gossip is the pleasantest of employ
ments; but to be enjoyed at its full this
must be done by word of mouth.
Just where letter-writing is the least
: toilsome it is the most inefficient. Fol
I the pen will not keep up with the ideas
II that flow from one friend putting him
: self or herself in communication with
5 another, and the written words convey
}. so much less than we desire to say.
Duty letter writing is the most bur
= densome of all, for then the pen halts
= and the ideas refuse to supply it Will
~ the work it is waiting to perform
With the best Of intentions and tn
warmest sentiment towards those w
- are addressing, there are too Otter
;, times when We cannot in duty-lette
- say anything that is interesting or any
:. thing that seems 20 be worth the tell
u ing.
~ If one is living life OF dull ro' lin
q away from ones home, among peopl
n unknown to ones friends, and possess
. ng few characteristics 1t lend the1'
ID selves to ready descril n, there SEEN
rS often to be a lament Die dearth &
at news that makes the home-letter
in masterpiece of dullness.
n It is so much easier 20 write fro,
he the other end where there is practica
st Iy no person and no event in which 20
is do not take a direct or indirect inte
g. est. But you know that letters beg'
ill letters, and e-you have to cudgel yoi
brains and set your wits to work
,st produce four pages of something; ar
re you warily leave ample margins an
~. spread your lines generously, so that
IN. the casual glance tie sheet may n
M seem to contain less than its conve
7e. tional amount.
ed When writing to confidential frien
No however, there is never this difficult
ng The only problem, as we have said,
to set down what you have in 70
mind, so quickly do ideas come Jul
to bling one upon the other. And tle