Highly appreciating the straightforward and gentlemanly manner in which you have written me concerning a subject that every parent has an interest in, I am compelled to inform you that, though my daughter has treated you with much friendliness as she is accustomed to with all her friends, she will be unable to continue with you a love acquaintance with a view to marriage, owing to a prior engagement with a gentleman of worth and respectability, which contract she has had no occasion to regret.

Fully sensible of your most excellent qualities, and the compliment paid in your selection of her, my daughter unites with me in the wish that you may meet with a companion in every way calculated to ensure your happiness.

Yours Very Respectfully,

that the person using the same involuntarily craves strong drink, in order to taste it. Therein lies the foundation of a large share of the drunkenness of the country. Observation proves that, while many men use tobacco that are not drunkards, almost every drunkard is a user of tobacco, having nearly always formed the habit from the use of this narcotic weed.

It would surround me with filth. To say nothing of the great drain on the physical health by the constant expectoration of saliva, thus ruining the health of many robust constitutions, could not endure the fetid breath of the tobacco user. Isicken the sight of the brown saliva exuding from between the lips; physiology proving that, with tobacco chewers, nearly all the waste fluids from the body pass through the mouth. I am immediately faint at the thought of dragging my skirts through spittle in a railway car, or any place where it is thrown upon the floor; I turn with disgust at the atmosphere-God's pure, fresh air-that is tainted with the stench of tobacco smoke.

It would corrupt my husband's morals. All the associations of tobacco are bad. It is true that many good men use tobacco. It is also truth that nearly every man that is bad is addicted to its use. To smoke, in peace, the man must resort to the place where others smoke. In that room are profanity, obscene language, and every species of vulgarity. There may be, occasionally, an exception. The fact is patent, however, that, in the room in which vulgarity and obscenity prevail, there is always tobacco smoke in the air, and the vile spittle on the floor. You will forgive me for speaking thus plainly. I love you too well to disguise my feelings on the subject. I could not possibly constantly love a tobacco user, for the reasons that I have given.

While I devotedly love you, I cannot consent that you should bestow your affections upon a person that would instinctively repel you, Believing therefore, under the circumstances, that our further correspondence should cease, I remain, Your Friend and Well-wisher, MARIETTA WILCOX.

I am in receipt of your courteous letter, containing a declaration of love. I will be frank enough with you to admit, that, while I have been sensible of your affectionate regard for me for some months, I also have cherished a growing interest in you. In truth, to make a candid confession, I most sincerely love you. I should, perhaps, say no more, but I feel it due to you, as well as to myself, to be strictly honest in my expression, lest we foster this growing love, which, under present conditions, must be broken off.

I have always admired your natural ability; I appreciate you for your industry; I respect you for your filial conduct towards your parents. In fact, I consider you quite a model young man, were it not for one habit, which has always been, heretofore, a very delicate subject for me to speak of, fearing that it might give you offense. But, believing it best that I be true to my convictions and state my objections plainly, I thus freely write them.

I have reference to the use of tobacco. Apparently, this is a little thing. I am aware that ladies generally consider it beneath their notice, but so thoroughly convinced am I that it is one of the most destructive habits, sapping the morality and vigor of our young men, that I could never consent to wed a man addicted to its use, my reasons being as follows:

It would impoverish my home. Only ten cents a day expended for a cigar, in a lifetime of forty years, with its accumulations of interest, amounts to over four thousand dollars! The little sum of eleven cents per day, saved from being squandered on tobacco and properly put at interest, amounts in that time to $5,160! No wonder that so many homes, the heads of which use tobacco, are without the comforts of life.

It might wreck my happiness. It is a well known physiological fact that the use of tobacco deadens the sense of taste; that water and all common drinks become insipid and tasteless when tobacco is used, so

I beg to apologize for addressing you thus, being an entire stranger; but having the misfortune to be unknown to you is my excuse for this strange proceeding, which, I am well aware, is entirely at variance with the rules of etiquette. I have for two Sabbaths seen you at church and I am k to confess that your appear. ance has made so deep an impression upon me as to make me extremely desirous of forming our acquaintance. I am, at present, a clerk in the ribbon department at Smith & Brown's store. Will you do me the great favor of allowing this to commence a friendship, which, I trust, will never be regretted by yourself. Please deign to give me at least a single line in reply to this, and oblige,

MR. BARNUM,

Dear Sir:

Your Sincere Admirer,

Unfavorable Reply.

WESLEY BARNUM.

I considerably question whether it is due to propriety to answer your note at all. But as you might fear that your letter had miscarried, and thus be induced to write again, it is best, probably, for me to make an immediate reply, and thus settle the affair entirely, and relieve you, possibly, of further suspense. It will be impossible for me to recognize you, or to think under any circumstances, of permitting an acquaintance to be commenced by such an introduction as you seem to deem sufficient. More especially should I regret allowing a friendship to be formed by recognitions in the hours of divine service in church, while the mind should be employed in religious observances. You will, therefore, please understand that I am not favorable to further recognition, nor to a continuance of correspondence.

AMELIA HENDERSON.

I am in receipt of your note, and must confess that I am surprised at your request. I am entirely opposed to commencing, on general principles, an acquaintance with such an introduction and consider it very improper, especially to allow it to originate in church during the hours of divine service. Were it not that I think your meaning kind and your intentions good, I would return your letter unanswered. As it is, I will take your request under consideration, and, if I think best to grant it, you may know of the fact by my recognition at the close of the service in the Sabbath school.

Respectfully,

AMELIA HENDERSON.

It is clearly evident, therefore, that she should not give her name and address as requested; and yet, as the advertisement may refer to a business matter of importance, or bring about an acquaintance that she will not regret, she may relieve her curiosity on the subject by writing the following note in reply:

An Advertisement in a Morning Paper.

PERSONAL-Will the lady, who rode up Broadway last Thursday

afternoon, about two o'clock, in an omnibus, getting out at Stewart's, accompanied by a little girl dressed in blue suit, please send her address to D. B. M., Herald office.

REMARKS.

It is useless to advise people never to reply to a personal advertisement like the above. To do so is like totally refusing young people the privilege of dancing. People will dance, and they will answer personal advertisements. The best course, therefore, is to properly direct the dancers, and caution the writers in their answers to newspaper personals. If the eye of the young lady referred to meets the above advertisement, she will possibly be indignant at first, and will, perhaps, resolve to pay no attention to it. It will continue to occupy her attention so much, however, and curiosity will become so great, that, in order to ease her mind, she will at last give her address; in which case she makes a very serious mistake; as any lady replying to a communication of such a character, giving her name and residence to a stranger, places herself to great disadvantage. Should her communication never be answered, she will feel mortified ever afterwards, that she committed the indiscretion of replying to the advertisement at all; and should the person she addresses prove to be some worthless fellow who may presume to press an acquaintance upon the strength of her reply, it may cause her very serious perplexity and embarrassment.

It is probable that the advertiser, if a gentleman, will reply, giving his reasons for requesting the lady's address, with references, upon receiving which, the lady will do as she may choose relative to continuing the correspondence; in either case, it will be seen that she has in no wise compromised her dignity, and she retains the advantage of knowing the motive and object that prompted the advertisement, while she is yet unknown to the advertiser.

Great caution should be exercised in answering personals. The supposition is, if the advertiser be a gentleman, that he will honorably seek an interview with a lady, and pay court as gentlemen ordinarily do. Still, an occasion may happen to a man, who is in the highest sense a gentleman, wherein he sees the lady that he very greatly admires, and can learn her address in no other way without rendering himself offensive and impertinent; hence, the apparent necessity of the above personal advertisement.

Instances have also occurred where gentlemen, driven with business, and having but little time to mingle in female society, or no opportunity, being strangers comparatively, desirous of forming the acquaintance of ladies, have honestly advertised for correspondence, been honestly answered, and marriage was the result.

Those advertisements, however, wherein Sammy Brown and Coney Smith advertise for

correspondence with any number of young ladies, for fun, mutual improvement, "and what may grow out of it, photographs exchanged,' etc., young ladies should be very wary of answering. Instances have been known where scores of young ladies, having answered such an advertisement, could they have looked in upon those young men, a week afterwards, would have seen them with a pile of photographs and letters, exhibiting them to their companions, and making fun of the girls who had been so foolish as to answer their advertisement.

It is true that no one but the meanest kind of a rascal would be guilty of such a disgraceful act as to advertise for and expose correspondence thus, and it is equally true that the young lady who gives the advertiser the opportunity to ridicule her shows herself to be very foolish.

I am led to suppose, from the reading of the above, that it is dictated in sincerity, by a desire to meet with a lady who would be treated with candor and respect. I have at present no acquaintance to whom I am inclined to give a very decided preference, nor have I ever had any very distinct ideas on the subject of marriage. I am free, however, to confess that, should circumstances favor my acquaintance with a gentleman whom I could honor and respect, I might seriously think of a proposal. Believing that you wish, as you intimate, this letter in confidence, I will say that I am years old, am in receipt of

annually, from property that is leased. I have been told that Iwas handsome, though others, probably, have a different opinion. Of that fact, you must be the judge. I am entirely free to select whomsoever I may choose. My social standing, I trust, would be satisfactory, and my accomplishments have not been neglected. It is not nec essary that I should write more. I shall be happy to correspond with you with a view to better acquaintance, when, if mutually agreeable an introduction may take place. You desire me to send name, address, and photograph, which, I trust you will perceive, would be improper for me to do. It is due to myself, and, under certain circumstances, to you, that I should be very guarded as to the manner of my introduction. A letter addressed to M. A. L., Station A, Post

Office, will reach me.

I sign a fictitious name, for obvious reasons.

Respectfully,

NANCY HILLIS.

A Gentleman makes a Frank Acknowledgment. — Gushing with Sentiment, and Running over with Poetry.

WHITE MOUNTAINS, N. H., Oct. 1, 18—.

MY DEAR MARY: One by one the brown leaves are falling, reminding us that the golden summer that we have so delightfully loitered through approaches its close. How thickly our pathway has been strewn with roses; how fragrant have been the million blossoms; how sweetly the birds have sung; how beautiful have been the sunny days; how joyous have been the starry nights! Dear M., I do not need to tell you that this delightful summer has been to me one grand elysian scene. I have gazed on, and dreamed of thy beauty. I have been fed by thy sparkling repartee and merriment; I have drank at the fountain of thy intellectuality; but the feast is ended, and gradually the curtain is falling. Dear, beautiful summer! So beautiful to me, because of thy loved presence. And standing now on the threshold of a scene all changed, I take a last, fond, long, lingering look on the beautiful picture that will return to me no more; and yet who knows, but on in that great eternity we may live again these Eden hours.

"Like a Foundling in slumber, the summer day lay On the crimsoning threshold of Even,

And I thought that the glow through the azure-arched way,

Was a glimpse of the coming of Heaven.

There together we sat by the beautiful stream;

We had nothing to do but to love aud to dream

In the days, that have gone on before.

These are not the same days, though they bear the same name, With the ones I shall welcome no more.

But it may be the angels are culling them o'er,
For a Sabbath and Summer forever.

When the years shall forget the Decembers they wore,
And the shroud shall be woven, no, never!

In a twilight like that, darling M. for a bride,

Oh! what more of the world could one wish beside,

As we gazed on the river unroll'd

Till we heard, or we fancied, its musical tide, Where it flowed through the Gate-way of Gold?"

Dearest, you must forgive my ardent expressions in this letter. With a temperament gushing to the brim and overflowing with sentiment and rhapsody, I have passed the fleeting summer in thy charming presence, in one continual dream of poesy. I cannot now turn back to the solemn duties before me, without telling you what trembled on my tongue a thousand times, as we gathered flowers together and wove our chaplets in the sunny days gone by. Dear, darling Mary, I love you, I adore you. How often in the beautiful moonlight nights, as we strolled among the lilacs and the primroses, have I been on the verge of clasping your jeweled hand and telling you all my heart. But, Oh! I did not quite dare; the hours were so delightful, even as they were. Fearing that I might be repulsed, I chose to accept the joy even that there was, rather than run the risk of losing it all.

How many a morning, have I arisen and firmly resolved, that, ere another day, I would know my fate! But ah! the twilight would fall, and the evening hour would pass by, and I never completely dared to risk the result of a declaration. The morrow I knew would be joyous if I bridled my impulse; it might not be if I made a mistake. But the dream has passed by. To-morrow, I bid adieu to these sylvan groves, the quiet meadows, and the gurgling brooks, to go back to the prose duties of business. And now, at the close of this festal season, as I am upon the verge of going, having nothing to lose and everything to gain, I have told you my heart. I have not the slighest idea what your reply will be. You have been to me one continual puzzle. If your answer is adverse, I can only entertain the highest respect for you ever in the future; and memory shall keep alive the recollection of the most blissful summer I have ever known. If your reply is favorable-dearest, may I fondly hope that it will be! -then opens before me a great volume of happiness, of which this joyous summer has been but the opening chapter.

Dear M., may I come again and see you, and address you henceforth as a lover? The messenger that brings you this, will return again in an hour for your answer. I need not tell you what an hour of suspense this will be to me. Upon your reply hangs my future. If your reply is favorable, I shall tarry another day, and will

the lady who knows how to get an excellent breakfast early in the morning, who is not only a model of neatness herself, but relieves her mother in household duties, keeping her younger brothers and sisters clean and orderly.

I have admired and loved you for your musical talent, and your fine conversational powers, but as I could not keep the necessary servants to enable you constantly to gratify those talents to the exclusion of the more substantial duties, I feel that our marriage would be a mistake for both of us.

You asked my reason for my changing love, I have reluctantly, yet plainly, stated it. Hoping however, that you may always be happy in life, I am, Your Friend,

DEAR CLARENCE:

Favorable Reply.

Your note accusing me of coldness is before me. After spending several hours in a consideration of this subject, to determine what is my duty, I have concluded that it is decidedly best for me to be perfectly frank with you, and give my reasons for a change of sentiment.

I do not think we could live happily together if we were married, because, from disparaging remarks I have heard you make concerning people that are not wealthy, I think you would be entirely dissatisfied with my circumstances; and the further fact that you allow your mother to do all the drudgery of the household, you sitting in the parlor entertaining gentlemen and affecting to have no knowledge of housekeeping, is proof that our tastes would not accord in home matters. I consider it just as honorable, and just as important, that young ladies should do something to support themselves as that young men should. If the opportunities are not as great for them to go abroad, they can, at least while at home, learn to be good in sewing, cooking, and housekeeping, and thus be prepared when opportunities offer, to make prudent, economical, tidy housewives. I do not under-value the importance of being proficient in the lighter accomplishments which go to make a lady at ease in society; but I vastly more prize

CLINTON HOLMES.

Reply to a Young Man addicted to Intemperance.

669

Mor. Spellman,
Dear Siv:

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Your kind invitation to accompany you to the opera, to-morrow evening, is received. Under ordinary cir= cumstances, I would be delighted to with you, believing you, at heart, to be really most excellent gentleman. I regret to add, however, that I have undoubted evidence of the fact that becoming addicted to of the wine cup. I regard it entirely unsafe for any young lady to continue an intimacy with young man upon whom is growing the habit of intemperance. With an earnest prayer for your reformation,

the use

you

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I returned yesterday, from a brief trip into Canada, my journey being most agreeable, only one little episode breaking the monotony, as I neared home, which was this: in the next seat behind me in the car sat a young couple who were evidently regretting that their ride was so near an end. Though buried in my reading, I could not avoid hearing much that they said. One question asked by the young man made a striking impression on my mind. "Maggie," said he, "we have now been acquainted a good while; you know me, and I know you. I do not need to tell you that I love you with all my heart; now do you love me?"

I knew the young fellow had taken that occasion, when the cars were thundering along, so that he might not be knocked down by the beating of his own heart. I confess to have been guilty of eavesdropping then. I listened intently for the lady's answer, but just at that moment, as my ill luck would have it, another train came thundering by us, and her voice was drowned in the noise. I got to thinking like this suppose you and I were riding thus, and I should ask precisely the same question; what would be your reply? I am very curious to know what your answer would be, and shall await a letter from you, with much anxiety. Most Truly Yours,

An Offer of Marriage.

248

ROLAND MILLS.

ST., Dec. 10, 18-.

DEAREST BERTHA: I have intended, O how many times! when we have been together, to put the simple question which I intend this note shall ask; but although apparently a very easy matter to ask the hand in marriage of one I so deeply love as yourself, it is no easy task. I therefore write what I have never found courage in my heart to speak. Dearest, will you bestow upon me the great happiness of permitting me to call you mine? If I have spoken this too boldly, you will forgive; but I fondly hope that you will not be indifferent to my appeal. I trust, if you answer this in the affirmative, that you will never regret doing so. Anxiously awaiting your answer, I remain, Yours Affectionately,

HARLAN DEMPSTER.

Letter from a Young Man who Proposes Marriage and

Emigration.

482

ST., April 16, 18-. DEAR CLARA: You have doubtless heard of my intention to go West in the coming month. Though surrounded here with my relatives and all the many friends of my boyhood, I have an intense desire to try my fortune amid new scenes, feeling that the fetters that now bind me and seem to hinder my upward progress, will then be broken.

I shall sunder my ties with some regrets, but to commence my business career as I am desirous of doing, I must make the sacrifice; in doing so, I do no more than thousands have done before me. In the great broad fields of the growing West, a young man of resolution, ambition, honesty, temperance, and perseverance cannot fail, I believe, to better his condition much more rapidly than he can here; you will, I think, coincide with me in this opinion.

Dear Clara, of all my farewells, none will be so sad to me as that I shall bid to you. Dear, dear Clara, you cannot be indifferent to the fact that I have long devotedly loved you; and, at the hour of parting, I feel that I cannot go without telling you my heart, and asking you if I may not have your love in return. And now, while I am asking, will you not take me with my heart, and in turn allow me to be your protector through life?

Dearest, I am going to press my suit still further. Will you not be mine before I go, and accompany me on my journey? I know this is asking a great deal of you. To accept of this proposition is to take you from a home of affluence, where you are surrounded with every desired comfort. I have no right to ask the sacrifice; and yet I have resolved to make bold before I go, and tell you all. If you accept my offer and will consent to cast your fortunes with me out in the great Sea of the Hereafter, I can assure you that no trouble or sorrow will come to you through me, and that, as you will be my dear, dear companion and sacred trust, so will I be to you all that lover and husband can be.

Now, dearest, if you will accept my future as your own, and place yourself by my side, accepting the sorrow and partaking of the joy that is in store for me, you will make me the happiest of men. If you assent, God grant that you may never regret your faith. Do not decide the question hastily. The sacrifice is such, in leaving home and kindred, that you may not accept of my proposal even though you love. When you have fully determined, however, please send the answer, which I shall most anxiously await. Ever dear Clara, Your Affectionate,

HENRY ADAMS.

I can make a reply to your candid question at once. I do not need to deliberate upon it long. I love you; I confide in you. I will trust you; I will go with you; I will accept the love and the future you offer. You may have many joys; you may experience some sorrows. I will share and bear them all with you, trusting that patient, earnest, willing effort may crown our labors with success. Believing that God will guide and prosper us, I can only add, hoping to see you soon, that I am Ever Yours,

CLARA DUNHAM.