12.—An Ardent Declaration.

Naperville, Ill., June 10th, 1915

My Dearest Laura:

I can no longer restrain myself from writing to you, dearest and best of girls, what I have often been on the point of saying to you. I love you so much that I cannot find words in which to express my feelings. I have loved you from the very first day we met, and always shall. Do you blame me because I write so freely? I should be unworthy of you if I did not tell you the whole truth. Oh, Laura, can you love me in return? I am sure I shall not be able to bear it if your answer is unfavorable. I will study your every wish if you will give me the right to do so. May I hope? Send just one kind word to your sincere friend.

HARRY SMITH.

13.—A Lover's Good-bye Before Starting on a Journey.

Pearl St., New York, March 11th, 1894.

My Dearest Nellie: I am off to-morrow, and yet not altogether, for I leave my heart behind in your gentle keeping. You need not place a guard over it, however, for it is as impossible that it should stay away, as for a bit of steel to rush from a magnet. The simile is eminently correct for you, my dear girl, are a magnet, and my heart is as true to you as steel. I shall make my absence as brief as possible. Not a day, not an hour, not a minute, shall I waste either in going or returning. Oh, this business; but I won't complain, for we must have something for our hive besides honey—something that rhymes with it—and that we must have it, I must bestir myself. You will find me a faithful correspondent. Like the spider, I shall drop a line by (almost) every post; and mind, you must give me letter for letter. I can't give you credit. Your returns must be prompt and punctual.

14.—From an Absent Lover.

Chicago, Ill., Sept. 10, 1915

My Dearest Kate: This sheet of paper, though I should cover it with loving words, could never tell you truly how I long to see you again. Time does not run on with me now at the same pace as with other people; the hours seem days, the days weeks, while I am absent from you, and I have no faith in the accuracy of clocks and almanacs. Ah! if there were truth in clairvoyance, wouldn't I be with you at this moment! I wonder if you are as impatient to see me as I am to fly to you? Sometimes it seems as if I must leave business and every thing else to the Fates, and take the first train to Dawson. However, the hours do move, though they don't appear to, and in a few more weeks we shall meet again. Let me hear from you as frequently as possible in the meantime. Tell me of your health, your amusements and your affections.

Remember that every word you write will be a comfort to me.

15.—A Declaration of Love at First Sight.

Waterford, Maine, May 8th, 1915

Dear Miss Searles:

Although I have been in your society but once the impression you have made upon me is so deep and powerful that I cannot forbear writing to you, in defiance of all rules of etiquette. Affection is sometimes of slow growth but sometimes it springs up in a moment. In half an hour after I was introduced to you my heart was no longer my own, I have not the assurance to suppose that I have been fortunate enough to create any interest in yours; but will you allow me to cultivate your acquaintance in the hope or being able to win your regard in the course of time? Petitioning for a few lines in reply.

16.—Proposing Marriage.

Wednesday, October 20th, 1894

Dearest Etta:

The delightful hours I have passed in your society have left an impression on my mind that is altogether indelible, and cannot be effaced even by time itself. The frequent opportunities I have possessed, of observing the thousand acts of amiability and kindness which mark the daily tenor of your life, have ripened my feelings of affectionate regard into a passion at once ardent and sincere until I have at length associated my hopes of future happiness with the idea of you as a life partner, in them. Believe me, dearest Etta, this is no puerile fancy, but the matured results of a long and warmly cherished admiration of your many charms of person and mind. It is love—pure devoted love, and I feel confident that your knowledge of my character will lead you to ascribe my motives to their true source.

May I then implore you to consult your own heart, and should this avowal of my fervent and honorable passion for you be crowned with your acceptance and approval, to grant me permission to refer the matter to your parents. Anxiously awaiting your answer,

17.—From a Gentleman to a Widow.

Philadelphia, May 10th, 1915

My Dear Mrs. Freeman:

I am sure you are too clear-sighted not to have observed the profound impression which your amiable qualities, intelligence and personal attractions have made upon my heart, and as you nave not repelled my attentions nor manifested displeasure when I ventured to hint at the deep interest I felt in your welfare and happiness, I cannot help hoping that you will receive an explicit expression of my attachments, kindly and favorably. I wish it were in my power to clothe the feelings I entertain for you in such words as should make my pleadings irresistible; but, after all, what could I say, more than you are very dear to me, and that the most earnest desire of my soul is to have the privilege of calling you my wife? Do you, can you love me? You will not, I am certain, keep me in suspense, for you are too good and kind to trifle for a moment with sincerity like mine. Awaiting your answer,

18.—From a Lady to an Inconstant Lover.

Dear Harry:

It is with great reluctance that I enter upon a subject which has given me great pain, and upon which silence has become impossible if I would preserve my self-respects. You cannot but be aware that I have just reason for saying that you have much displeased me. You have apparently forgotten what is due to me, circumstanced as we are, thus far at least. You cannot suppose that I can tamely see you disregard my feelings, by conduct toward other ladies from which I should naturally have the right to expect you to abstain. I am not so vulgar a person as to be jealous. When there is cause to infer changed feelings, or unfaithfulness to promises of constancy, jealousy is not the remedy. What the remedy is I need not say—we both of us have it in our hands. I am sure you will agree with me that we must come to some understanding by which the future shall be governed. Neither you nor I can bear a divided allegiance. Believe me that I write more in sorrow than in anger. You have made me very unhappy, and perhaps thoughtlessly. But it will take much to reassure me of your unaltered regard.