A MODEL LOVE LETTER.

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume VII, Issue 30, 3 February 1872, Page 4

A MODEL LOVE LETTER.

The report of the Adelaide MeatPreserving Company gives a favorable account of operations. The report for 1871 showed 3,259,0001 b., being a large increase over previous years. If brevity really is the soul of wit, three speeches delivered at the Kyueton General Session yesterday (states the Guardian of the 6th December) must be classed among the wittiest on record. The evidence having been concluded in the prosecution of Henry Hines, for lace«ny, the public were treated to the following specimens of forensic eloquence: — Mr. O'Loughlan (Crown Prosecutor): '*' I shan't address the jury ;" Mr. W. H. Byrne (counsel for the prisoner). "I don't intend to make a speech ;" His Honor the Jadge (summing up): "Gentlemen, the case is entirely in your hands." The jury emulated the promptness of couusel and judge, aad acquitted the prisoner without hesitation.

The following epistle was written by an Onondagua lover to llie " object of his affection," a widow lady, the mother of three children. After his passion had cooled and he failed to " come to time,'' the lady sued him for breach of promise of marriage, and recovered 500 dollars as a healing balm for her lacerated heart, the letter being part of tho evidence produced on the trial : — My Dear Mrs. M. — Every time I think of you my heart flops up and down like a churn dasher. Sensations of unutterable joy caper over ifc like young goats on a stable roof, and thrill through it like Spanish needles through a pair of tow linen trowsers. As a goslin swimmetli in a mud puddle so swim I on a sea of glory. Visions of ecstatic rapture thicker than the hairs of a blackening brush, and brighter than the eyes of ahuramiDg bird's pinions, visit me in my slumbers, and borne on their invisible wings, your image stands before me, and I reach out to grasp it, like a pointer snapping at a blue-bottle fly. When I first beheld your angelic perfections I was bewildered, and my brain whirled round like a bumble bee under a glass tumbler. My eyes stood opeu like cellar doors in a couutry town, and I lifted up my ears atthe silvery accents of your voice. My tongue refused to wag, and in silent adoration I drank in lhe sweet infection of love as a thirsty manswalloweth a tumbler of hot whisky punch. Since the light of your face fell upon my life I sometimes feel as if I could lift myself up by my boot straps to the top of the church steeple, and pull the bell rope for singing school. Day and night you are in my thoughts. When Aurora, blushing like a bride, rises from her saffron-colored couch; when the jay bird pipes his tuneful lay in the apple tree by the spring house; when the chanticleer's shrill clarion heralds the coming morn; when the awakening pig arises from his bed and grunteth and goeth for his morning refreshments; when the drowsy beetle wheels to droning flight at sultry noontide; and when the lowing herds come home at milking time, I think of thee; and like a piece of gum elastic, my heart seems stretched clear across my bosom. Your hair is like the mane of a sorrel horse powdered with gold. Your forehead is smoother than the elbow of an old coat. Your eyes are glorious to behold. In their liquid depths I see little Cupids bathing, like a cohort of ants in an old army cracker. When their fire hit upon my manly breast, it penetrated my whole anatomy, as a load of bird shot through a rotten apple. Your nose is from achunck of Parian marble, and your mouth is puckered with sweetness. Nectar lingers on your lips like honey on a bear's paw; and myriads of unfledged kisses are there ready to fly out and light somewhere, like blue birds out of their parent's nest. Your laugh rings in my ears like the wind harp's strain, or the bleat of the stray lamb on the bleak hill-side. The dimples on your cheeks are like bowers in beds of roses, or hollows in cakes of home-made sugar. lam dying to fly to thy presence and pour out the burning eloquence of my love, as thrifty housewives pour out hot coffee. Away from you I am as melancholy as a sick rat. Sometimes I can hear the June bugs of despondency buzzing in my ears, and feel the cold lizards of despair crawling down my back. Uncouth fears, like a thousand minnows, nibble at my spirits, and my soul is pierced with doubts, like an old cheese is bored with skippers. My love for you is stronger than the smell of Coffey's patent butter, or the kick of a young cow, and more unselfish than a kitten's first caterwaul. As a song bird hankers for the light of day. the cautious mouse for the fresh bacon in the trap, as a mean pup hankers for new milk, so I long for thee. You are fairer than a speckled pullet, sweeter than a Yankee doughnut fried in sorghum molasses, brighter than a topknot plumage on tbe head of a Muscovy duck. You are sweetened toddy altogether. If these few remarks will enable you to see the inside of my soul, and me to win your affections, I shall be as happy as a woodpecker on a cherry tree or a stage horse in a green pasture. If you cannot reciprocate my thrilling passion I will fall away from a flourishing vine of life, an untimely branch ; aod in coming years, when the shadows grow from the hills and tbe philosophical frog sings bis cheerful evening hymns, you, happy in another's love, can come and drop a tear and catch a cold upon the last resting place of yours affectionately, H. Verdict for plaintiff, and 500 dollars damages.