Year: 1868

The following beautiful love letter is
said to surpass in eloquence and pathos
anything of the kind ever written 1t
was addressed to a young man in Dy-
ersburgh:


DYERsBURGH, August 5th, 1868.


My own dear Pleas Every time
think of you my heart fops up and
down like churn- -dasher. Sensations
of unutterable Joy caper over it like
young goats over stable roof, and thrill
through it like Spanish needles through
tow linen trowsers. AS a gosIing swim
meth in delight in mud puddle, SO
swim in sea of glory Visions of
ecstatic rapture, thicker than the hair
of backing brush, and brighter than
the hues on humming birds pinions,
visit me in my slumbers, and borne on
their invisible wings, your image stands
before me and | reach out to grasp it,
like an old pointer swapping at a blue
bottle fly. When l first beheld your
sanity perfections l was bewildered,
and my brain whirled around like a
bnmble-bee under glass tumbler /; my
eyes stood open like cellar doors in a
country town, and l lifted up my ears
to catch the silvery accents of your
voice. My tongue refused to wag, and
in silent admiration | drank in the
sweet infection of love, as thirsty man
swalloweth a tumbler of hot whiskcy
punch, Since the light of your face fell
upon my life, sometimes feel as | could
lift myself by my shoe straps to the top
of church steepe. Day and night
you are my thoughts. When Aurora,
blushing like a bride, rises from her
saffron couch; when the joy-bird pipes
his tuneful lay in the apple tree near
the spring house; when the chanti-
clecr's shrill clarion heralds the coming
morn when the awakened pig ariseth
from his bed and goeth forth for his
morning refreshments; when the drow-
sy beetle wheels its droning fight 1T
sultry noontide, and when the looine
COWS come home at milking time,
think Of thee; and like piece of gum
elastic, MY heart seems to stretch clear
across MY bosom


Your hair is like the name of a sorrel
horse, painted with gold, and the brass
slide to your immaculate necktie fills
inc with unbounded awe Your fore
head is smoother than an old coat, and
whittier than seventeen hundred linen.
Your eyes are glorious to behold. In
their depths | see legions of little Gu
pids battling and fighting like cohorts
of ants in an old army cracker When
their fire hit me full in the womanly
breast, it perforated my entire anatomy
like load Of bird shot would go through
a rotten apple Your nose is from g
chunk of Parian marble and yorr mouth
FUCKERS with sweetness. Nectar lin
gers on your rosy lips like honey on 9
BEARS paw, and myriads of uDAedged
kisses are there ready to fly out and
light somewhere like blue birds out ot
their parent nest Your laugh rings
on my ear like the wind harp's strain
or the bleat of a stray lamb on bleak
hill side The dimples in your checks
are like bowers in beds of roses, or the
holluws in cakes of home made sugar
[ am dying to fly to your presence, and
to pour out the burning eloquence o.
my love as thrifty housewife pours
out coffee. Away from you | am as
melancholy as sick rat. Some
times can hear the Junebug of des
pondency buzzing in my ears, and fee
cold lizards of despair crawling down
my back. Uucouth fears like thou
sand minnows nibbling at my spirits
and my soul is pierced through with
doubts as an old cheese is bored by
shippers. My love is stronger for you
; than the smell of old butter, settler
kase, or the kick of mule. 1t is purer
than the breath of young COW, auc
more unsel6sh than a Kittens first cat
terwaul. As the song bird hungers fol
the light of day, the cautious little
mouse for the fresh bacon in the trap
as lean pup bankers for new milk, Sc
| long for thee. You are fairer than /;
speckled pullet, sweeter than Yankee
doughnut fixed in sorghum molasses
brighter than the topnot plumage or
the head of Muscovey duck. YOU
are candy kisses, raisins, pound cake
and sweetened toddy, altogether. Il
these few remarks will enable you te
see the inside of my soul. and me te
win your affections, | shall be as happy
as a woodpecker in cherry tree, or a
stage horse in green pasture. If you
cannot reciprocate my thrilling passion
will feel terrible bad, and l will pine
away like poisoned bedbug, and fal
from the fourishing vine of life, an un.
timely branch. And in coming years
when the shadows grow long from the
hills, aud the puilosophic frog sings his
evening hymn, you, happy in another'l
love, can come and drop tear and toss
a clod upon the last resting place ei


EcILA.


A FEW years ago, at the conclusion
l