Democratic Sentinel, Volume 5, Number 15, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 May 1881 — THE LOVE LETTER. [ARTICLE]

THE LOVE LETTER.

“Well, whoever heard the like,” cried Fanny Harper, as she entered the parlor and threw herself on the sofa. “ Guess, mamma, if you can, what has just happened. ” “I’m sure I don’t know. Perhaps Sam and Tom have been quarreling. Dear me, what torments those children are!” “ No; they are both at school. Guess again, mamma.” “ Well, then, I dare say that odious Mrs. Sharp has been hinting that I wear false hair. False hair, indeed! then, why—” “ No such thing,” interrupted Fanny; “ten times worse!” “Ten times worse!” cried Mrs. Harper, turning pale. “Oh Fanny, tell me. ” “ Well,” said Fanny, sobbing, “Julia Somers is engagpd. ” “ Engaged? Well I wonder what people will come to next!” “Yes, really engaged. If there was a girl iu whom I thought I could place perfect confidence, it was Julia Somers. Only a month ago she joined our antimatrimonial society. Oh, mamma, how can girls be so foolish! Poor Julia!” “ Why, what can you mean, Fanny?” asked a lady who happened to be present. “Is it possible that Julia is about to marry a man unworthy of her? Who is the dreadful creature to whom she is engaged?” “His name is George something— Thornton, I believe.” “ Is he intemperate?” “ Mercy, no! How could you think of such a thing? His morals are good enough.” # “Perhaps* he is an ignoramus, then, or—”

“No, no, no;'he is a very fine young man, as rich as Croesus, very sensible, and so handsome! Half the girls in town are doing for him. ” “Indeed! Then why is Julia so much to be pitied?” “Why, because she is to be married,” said Fanny, impatiently (she had turned an old maid’s corner). “I confess I cannot see the great hardship, after all,” suggested Mrs. Harper. “But there’s the dinner bell.” Fanny declared, however, that she had no appetite for dinner, so to her own room she went to write a long letter to Julia, in which she pointed out the trials of married life, and warned her against the fatal step. What did Mrs. Somers do with this letter? She read it to George, and George twisted it into twenty lamp-Aghters, and the twenty lamp-lighters were iu requisition on a certain evening of the next week, when Julia ceased to be Julia Somers. Months passed away and Fanny, at Julia’s earnest desire, came to spend a few days with the youthful bride. The bright color and the playful smile still dwelt upon her cheek and lip as of yore, and Fanny might have forgotten that this was not the Julia Somers of her early love had not the apparition of a man’s hat and coat in the hall recalled her to her senses. “Well,” thought Fanny, “I'm determined to have as Little to do with her husband as possible. Not a word will I speak except when he asks a question, for lam determined to hate him with all my heart.” To hate George Thornton —the man who adored her Julia, who was so handsome, so sensible, so brimful of love and kindness for every living thing! Rash resolve! In the space of one hour Fanny had opened out her heart to the influence of his thousand-and-one good qualities, and he understood her. The week passed pleasantly, and Fanny went home and wrote verses. It was very odd, she thought, and my reader, you must think as she did that certain persons of the masculine gender were constantly interfering with her private reflections. If she walked she feared meeting some among the number; if she remained at home she was sure they would be there to torment her; if she read, the hero of the novelist or historian would take the shape of the Mr. Thompsons, the Mr. Smiths and the Mr. Jones of her acquaintance; if she visited, what if Mr. So-and-so should be there? Poor Fanny! The years of the life of Fanny Harper were many. Her younger brothers and sisters wondered that she had never had an offer, and Fanny herself wondered, and rejoiced—at least she said so. One morning Mrs. Harper and her five daughters were seated together in the parlor, when a violent ring was heard at the door. It was not time for papa’s return, but that was not papa’s ring, they were all sure. Great, therefore, was their surprise when Mr. Harper, puffing and E anting, rolled into the room, bearing igh above his head a letter with a great masculine seal.

“A letter from a gentleman, as I know by the flourish he has made on that great M, ” cried Kate, standing on tip-toe and trying to read the address written on the letter. “A love letter, did you say?” cried Matilda. “Oh, its for me then,” said Fanny, decidedly. “For me, you mean,” cried Lucy, who bore the only pretty face of the family. “Isn’t it for me?” asked Ann, as she remembered that Mr. Gustavus Thorp had walked home with her the last time she was caught in a shower. The matter was speedily settled, however, by Kate, who had contrived to gain possession of the letter, and was reading “Mbs Francis Harper” in no gentle voice. “Give it to me directly, and don’t tease me so, Kate,” cried Fanny. “Wait a minute till I’ve found out who it’s from,” said Kate, peeping under the seal. “Let me see—Thom—Thomas! There, do take it. ” My dear reader did you ever write, receive or read a love letter? “Not I, thank fortune,” growls the cross old bachelor. “Nor I,” sighs poor Aunt Nabby. “That’s a secret,” 1 whispers pretty Ellen. Well, then to you who know nothing ol such matters, an explanation or even a sight of Fanny’s letter would be unintelligible; and as for you who have already dozens of your own, you can, of course, feel little curiosity respecting this one. Besides, what right have Ito read you Fanny’s secret?

Fanny came down to dinner with an air of dignity quite unusual to her. “Do tell us who the letter was from?” asked Lucy. “Shall you say yes?” called Sam, from the end of the table. “Of course she will, and we will be uncles and aunts,” roared Tom. „ “Thomas, leave the table, directly, cried Mrs. Harper. “Yes, mamma,” said Tom, encouraged by the blushes and titters of the four sisters; “but is it for saying that Fanny would say ys®, or that wo should bo uncles and aunts?” - “Go away, you naughty boy! and Tom was gone. When dinner was over, Fanny took her mother aside and begged her to read the letter. “Well,” said Mrs. Harper, after a silence of thirty-five minutes, “a very pretty letter, I must say—but who is this Thomas Somerby?” “Why, mamma,” replied Fanny, “I don’t exactly remember ever seeing him, but—”

“Ah, well, that’s of no consequence. You shall answer this letter directly—just the situation for you. Let me seelives in the country during the summer months. La, we can take the children and spend at least four out of the year with you every season.” “Dear mamma, you forget that I am at the head of the Anti-Matrimonial Society." “But that’s of no qonsequence. Only think of your friend J ulia—such a nice house—such elegant furniture—such a sweet baby as she has!” “Yes, Julia seems very happy; and, do you know, mamma, she has really urged me of late to be more charitable in my opinions of gentlemen. After all, I have possibly been to severe.” Fanny retired to her own room to meditate upon Mr. Somerby. A tap at her door aroused her from the reverie into which she had fallen, and Kate, with an air of great importance, made her appearance. “And so, Fanny, you are really going to take this Mr. What’s-his-name? You needn’t blush, formamma has told us all about it, and we have planned out about the dresses and everything; and after you are married you know I shall have your room, for papa says I may. And there’s another thing which I must tell you. Oh, Fanny, I hope I shall have a love letter some of these days. ” Fanny hardly knew whether to laugh or cry, but in spite of the grave face which she found it expedient to put on, several little smiles twinkled in her eyes, smiles that said: “Kate, you are a darling, but I musn’t let you know I think so.” “Well,” continued Kate, “have you written the answer? Let me see it, do. Come now, I shan’t tell the girls what pretty things you say to him.” “Katy,” said Fanny, solemnly “you must not talk any more about the matter. I confess that it is very hard to disappoint you all and to distress him, but it must be done. ” Now, if there waff anything that Kate particularly disliked it was to see tears shed by anybody for any reason; therefore, as she began to-suspect that Fanny meditated some such act, she lost no time in retreating. When Fanny came to tea she was assailed by a host of questions, congratulations, and kisses from papa, mamma, her four sisters and three brothers.

“How d’ye do, Mrs. Somerby?” asked one. “Now for the wedding cake,” shouted Tom. “You’ll let me be bridesmaid, won’t you?” urged Ann. “And if Mr. S. gives you a gold watch won’t you give me your old one?” asked Matilda. After tea no one seemed inclined to Set about any regular employment. Papa held his newspaper before his eyes as usual, but it was at last discovered by Kate that it had been upside down for an hour. Mamma’s knitting work lay quietly in her lap, while her thoughts wandered off to a certain fine house in the country, where several children ran about, bearing a decided resemblance to her daughter Fanny. Matilda, Ann and Lucy withdrawn into a snug corner, debated the questions whether he were handsome or otherwise; if he had dark hair or light, if he had not several brothers, etc. Dreams, such as had never visited them before, came this night to the members of the Harper family. A tall, melancholy man, with black whiskers and black coat, disturbed the slumbers of the gentle Fanny; mamma talked in her sleep of “fine establishment—just the thing for Fan; don’t you think so, pa?” And Mr. H. answered without waking: “Yes, my dear, he’ll put his name on my notes, I dare say. ” Pretty little young men, brothers of Mr. Somerby, flitted around the apartments-of Lucy and of Ann, while visions of plum cake danced temptingly before the eye of Tom and Sam. Poor Fanny was in sad perplexity. Her mamma had expressed it as her opinion that the match was a desirable one, she had even hinted that her daughter might never have “another chance, ” and that for her part she could depart in peace should she see her family comfortably settled for life. And Fanny’s filial affection conquered all her scrupples, and she resolved to see, to accept Mr. Somerby. “Yes,” said she to herself, as she again dwelt upon the tenderness of the precious letters, “the sacrifice must be made. I must gratify my dear mother, even though it be at the expense of my own happiness. I will be Mrs. Somerby. ” Fanny looked out upon the quiet sky, the moon and stars, and thought, “How fine a tale could be made from this—a daughter sacrificing herself for the sake of her mother!” It was time to write her answer to the letter; but how should she begin? Must it be with “Mr. Somerby, sir?” Oh, no, that was too formal. With “My dear sir?” That was too affectionate. And when the matter had been settled and the letter fairly written, the equally important question remained how she should subscribe herself. Was she to be “Yours, respectfully,” or “truly,” or “sincerely,” or “affectionately?” A difficult problem!

But all things have an end, and the letter was sent. Then it was that Fanny’s heart began to quake. What if Mr. S. should not fancy her handwriting? Perhaps her note was too cold, maybe too hot; he might not expect an answer so soon and would be shocked at her haste. But all these heart-quakings were in vain—the letter was gone. To pass away the time, which now hung heavily upon her hands, Fanny called to tell Julia the whole story. The kind friend was in raptures. “Just the man for you, my dear,” she cried. “So he says he has met you in your walks and at church. Well, I can imagine how he looks; he’s the very image of my husband, I’ve no doubt. ” Fanny next called upon the second directress of the Anti-Matrimonial Society, a young lady of an uncertain age, and informed her that for private reasons she must resign her own office, begging her friend to make this resolution known to the society at their next meeting. Meanwhile the four sisters ran to tell the news. Each one had her own particular friend who must not be forgotten, and in the course of two days, it was known to all Fanny’s acquaintances that the fair damsel had been wooed and won. The third day passed, and there had come no letter from the .impatient lover. Fanny resolved not to sleep a wink that night. “What will become of me,* thought she; “I must be in love!” In the midst of her despair she fell asleep. The next morning a little note, sealed with “Forgive and forget!” was brought from the office. Fanny ran to her own room to read it at her ease, pressing it to

her lips all the way up stairs. Behold the note opened: “Dear Fanny”— (“Why, how bold!” thought she)—“We have been amusing ourselves at your expense by writing yon a letter signed‘Thomas Somerby.’ We are afraid that we have carried the matter too far, and must now beg yon to think of this imaginary person no longer. Now don’t be angry, Fanny dear, for we are both quite sorry, and are ready to hunt up for yon a real Mr. S., who will write better letters than the pretended. one. Affectionately, “Julia and Gbobgb.” Fanny sat like one petrified. At last she slowly rose, looked in the glass to know if she were pale, tried to faint away, and called her mamma. Mrs. Harper’s indignation knew no bounds. “And so we shall have no wedding, after all,” said Ann. ‘‘And we shan’t have our new dresses,” sighed Matilda. “And there’ll be no wedding cake,” screamed Tom. “It was that horrid George Thompson,” suggested Fanny. “What an impertinent fellow,” cried Kate. And everybody, vexed and disappointed, turned away to fret, to wander and to scold. Ann and Lucy ran to burn up the verses which they had written about wedded bliss; Kate descended to the kitchen to tell the story there, and Sam. and Tom, having vented their disappointment in bestowing upon Mr. George Thompson the name of “weak sister,” departed for school. “I thought it was a hoax all the time,” said Fanny, the next time she met Julia. “Oh, did you? Well, lam glad of it. We were afraid that you did not suspect it” “La, as if I should ever marry!” returned Fanny.