Arizona republican., 1903-09-29

speaking of the amatory correspond enCe of a woman.
 The letters Prosper Merrimee wrote to his inconnuc are full of acapricious baffling charm; but then the man who | wrote them was one of the greatest Of stylists, a mine of curious informaton, and poss essed a b. illiant, biting wit. and a cynical melancholy. But they could hardly be called love letters. 1 If the lady ever responded to any of ! them with more than the warmth of friendship we may zine what chill 1 her tenderness received by such a sen- 1 tence as "the affection you have for me is only sort of jeu d'esprit. You are all esprit. You are one of those chilly women of the north;" or in the early part of their acquaintance. where 1 he disclaims any ambition of being her 1 lover: Perhaps I shall find in you what I have been looking for so long | a woman with whom l am not in love and in whom I can have confidence" l These certainly are not the strains that usually proceed from the Tyre of | the love god. Moreover, midway in | the correspondence. the lady married, and the letters kept on as confidentally | friendly, as coolly interested as un- emotionally familiar ever.
 The male correspondent seems in- variable to tend toward sort of voluble confidence in his letters to the one woman. She is pair of ears into
 which he pours, in fluent stream, his | ideas, hopes, aspirations, and amb
 tions. Swift, in his journal to Stella, now and then slipped into endearment; he had certain cajoline phrases of af | lection that he applied to her, droller
 ies of "the little language" that ran off at the end of his pen, as he might have casually and carelessly kissed her had she been leaning on the back of his chair. But the interest of the journal
 is it's record of the work, the amuse-
 ment, the quarrels, the trumphs of the | Irish dean. Stella. who was evidently of the loving. uncomplaining, forbear- ing sort, took what came without murmer, and, I suppose, thought her self blessed that her friend conde | seconded to write to her at all.
 The gentleman q think his name was
 Haskins) who. about q century ago. | was executed for the murder of Miss | Reay, left a small collection of love | letters, which had an impassioned and
 genuine ring. Miss Reay. who had
 been a professional singer, and who | had left the stage to become the orna ment of the home of a noble peer, to | whose household she contributed six | children, was a woman of great beauty and charm. Haskins Get us decide
 that was his name) met her some where, fell desperately in love with | her. and declared his sentiments. Miss
 Reay at first gave ear to him. encour- | aged him. seemed for a time to have even contemplated deserting her peer and marrying him; then decided that a peer in the hand was worth any
 number of Haskinses in the bush, and l threw him over.
 His letters, which cover the period | of their acquaintance, have more of the impetuosity and passion of real
 love letters than those unusually writ
 ten by men. Yet even in these were
 none of the fiery rush of words which
 distinguishes the epistle of the female scribe. They were all rewritten, gone
 over, and embellshed before they were sent. The lover kept copies of them
 which were eventually found after his death. That his feelings, however he | expressed them. were of the deepest, | was proved by the final murder of Miss l Eeay. Finding her adamant, even in disposed to answer his love-eff,Isions,
 he stationed himself at. the door of the opera house one evening, as she emerg-
 ed, drew his pistol and shot her
 through the head.
 In the love letters of women there is | no premedita tion, no glance thrown ahead on consequences. The letter | bOils to the surface of the mind and then boils over on the paper. The l women who have written like this, and then. in the cool light of reason or a | subsequent rupturing of the fond tie, l have been ready to die of rage and shame at the predicament in which | their ready pens have placed them. are by the thousand. They write love let
 ters in just the same mad, impulsive way in which they commit suicide. A man kills himself in the manner most effective, sure and speedy. He uses thought and judgment. woman in I a frenzy snatches up the nearest thing | at hand. indifferent to the unnecessary pain it may cause her. or to it's general | inconvenience or discomfort.
 | Of late years the danger of writing 1 love letters has been increased hund- i redfold by the possibility that their recipient may tie them neatly together, put them in pgeon-hole, and some day, when he is hard up. sell them.
 The love letters of women are evidently high in the public's favor, and have been for centuries. Mile. de Lespin- asses impaSsioned effusions were col lected and published by the wife of the man to whom they were written. This might have been a subtle feminine re- | venge, but I am inclined to think that | Mime. de Guibert was animated only by a desire to give the reading world | a treat.
 She was a Frenchwoman, to whom l a graceful letter is always a. delight. And it seemed to her that the madly loving epistles of a woman who had extraordinary control of the pen, and | an almost inspired talent in express ing her infatuation in writing. should
 be given to the public as one would give any other rare and valuable docu- ments.
 But when it comes to the man giving up the letters, it is rather hard to re-
 regard it from a calm, literary stand
 point. The gorge cannot help rising at
 Joseph Nathan's offering up of the