Hawkeye . stance. Good bye dear, you will never be the same to me again, but it was probably meantso. Best wishes and bon voyage. From, Lou. Buffalo, N. Y., August 11, 00. My Dear Nelle:— Why dont you write to me? I sent all my letters up in the Alps for you said you weregoing to spend the summer there, but you must havereceived them by this time. Well, what do youthink of me? A perfect idiot, Ill wager. He isas poor as a church mouse and is going to IndianTerritory es a medical missionary to those poorheathen and I am supposed to teach the squaws towash their faces, and in return for my pains
Hawkeye . stance. Good bye dear, you will never be the same to me again, but it was probably meantso. Best wishes and bon voyage. From, Lou. Buffalo, N. Y., August 11, 00. My Dear Nelle:— Why dont you write to me? I sent all my letters up in the Alps for you said you weregoing to spend the summer there, but you must havereceived them by this time. Well, what do youthink of me? A perfect idiot, Ill wager. He isas poor as a church mouse and is going to IndianTerritory es a medical missionary to those poorheathen and I am supposed to teach the squaws towash their faces, and in return for my pains shallpromptly be scalped, I suppose. I know youare laughing at me, but I am perfectly happy tohave you do so, though I feel wicked every time Ithink of my people and how disappointed theymust be. The missionarys wife is allowed onenew dress a year Just think how Ill shine! ButIm always a philosopher, and perhaps I shallwrite up these people, at any rate I shall be happy. Sincerely, Lou. —Rita Kei^ QuQLker Polly Pretty Polly was a Quaker — Wore a Quaker gown;Hid her brown curls in a shaker When she went to a saint you might mistake her With her eyes cast down. When Pretty Polly passed, the clover Bloomed more fair and sweet;The very leaves rejoiced above her To fall beneath her feet;The rustic stile, when she passed over. Knew its charm complete. Polly had, as you may guess it, Ivovers not a the town felt honored—bless it— Just to tie her , I loved, I must confess it. Pretty Polly, too. Should I try to woo her, surelyShe would not be mine. What her eyes told, hid demurelyI could neer divine. Yet she spoke enchanting- purelyThee and thou and thine
Size: 1800px × 1388px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, booksubjectunivers, bookyear1902
