Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1909-04-20
THE LAST LOVE LETTER.
After u Was Written There Was Moth.
ina More to Be Said.

IAot LIVE LIZ .ns
After u Was Written There Was Moth
i ing More to Be Said.
Dear Jack: Yes-I will marry you.
1t seems to be "the asiest way"-and
besides I intended to all along. You
have won me by siege and taken me
by Storm" but it's been awfully hard
work making you do 1t. The most
difficult problem q girl has to face In
these days is how to make a man
force her to marry him. Yet every
woman yearns to be taken In a rush
to conquest-instead of just taken for
granted or as a matter Of course. She
wants something to remind her OF the
fact that her husband proposed " her
besides the ring and the certificate.
which are all most women have.
And yet, when ! think of how beau
tiful you made love to me, 1t does
seem almost a pity to marry a fasci-
mating man like you and transform
him from an artistic lover into an or
dinary, prosaic husband. Your life has
been such labor Of love- from early
youth that I can't help plying all the
nice girls whom am depriving Of the
delicious experience Of being fiirted
with by you. ~
1 I wonder II every girl who marries
a popular and attractive man realizes
,,hot a cr,,al thtno che Go drIpo "A, har
sex by monopolizing him. It seems
almost as wicked as cornering wheat
or forming a love trust. A really ideal
lover like you is so rare in these days
that he ought to be divided up and
passed around just as Tar as he win 60.
Considering the scarcity OF husbands,
It. looks almost "piggish" for one wo-
man to have a whole live man all to
herself.
Do you really want me to marry
you "at once% That Is rushing into
It, dear Jack-but suppose that most
people would never marry at all II they
didn't grit their teeth and shut their
eyes and rush into It. Getting mar
ried is something like walking tight
rope or turning handspring In the
air; IL you stop to consider It you
simply can't go on! It's the Dip Of
Death" in Life's circus! And the only
way to take 1t Is to seat yourself In
fate's automobile and keep your eyes
on the stars, while you go plunging
down. You know you are going to get
an awful jolt, but II you just hold
tight and don't think about It you may
land safely on the sawdust in the end
and go rolling along comfortably for
ever afterwards.
i What are we marrying for, Jack?
Do you know? OF course not; nobody
ever does until 1t Is all over and then
nobody remembers. They are just
fascinated by the giittering on loves
gold brick and the simmer on the
honeymoon and they refuse to scrape
of the gilt and see what's UNDER
meath.
But nobody can call ours a mar
riage Of convenience, at any rate--be-
cause there isn't going to be any con-
venience In that little two by four
apartment where the clothes closets
are Just dents In the wall and the
chiffonier Is fighting with the trunk
for breathing room and the rugs are
treading on one another's skirts and
the pictures elbowing one another or
the walls.
Yet just for this (and the privilege
of paying bills) you are giving up a
comfy bachelor fat and your independ,
ence and your latch key and your
clubs, and I am giving up the family
home and my own name and all my
fiirtations and most Of my opinions.
It's pity-but then. II didn't marry
you, somebody else would-and II you
didn't marry me some other man
might. That's why we are marrying
Il one another-that's why everybody
married-not in order to get particu-
lar person. but in order to keep any
body else from getting him or her;
not because they can't get along bet
ter with somebody. but because they
can't get along without him or her.
It's the dog-in-the manger spirit in us.
| Al, well! This Is probably the last
love letter I ever shall write you
since we are to be married. Hereafter,
IL suppose, my communications wfll
read, "Do-c come home mother sends
love- Harold needs -shoes the cook Is
sick" And yours will be confined to
the simple but striking expression.
Enclosed find check"
Good-by sweetheart, I hate to ex-
change you for husband. but the deal
is on and the bargain struck, and
we'll meet at the altar and draw up
the papers-and sign away our birth
rights for a mess of matrimonial pot
tage. The scene viii be set like the
third act Of a Clyde Fitch drama, and
the orchestra will play between acts,
and the bridesmaids and the best man
will go through their little parts, and
everybody will send US something we
don't want, and they'll stuff rice In
your hat and throw old shoes after US,
and tie white ribbons on our trunks
and after all Is said and done, well
just be helpmates instead Of soul
mates.
It is very sweet Of you to offer to
tell me all about yourself, dear-but
don't. I don't want anything to think
about when I wake up nights. I don't
believe in confessions between man
and wife; they may be exhilarating
for the moment, but they are apt to
leave me with bad taste in the MEM
ory. II you've got e past keep 1t. and
just leave your future to ME.-Green-
vile News.
The Pathos Went Wrong.-1rving
Bachelor, the novelist, is Of unusually
| agreeable appearance and address.