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Updated: May 23, 2025
It read: "Deer Si; ive jest red in the papers that the army's goin' 2 move rite off. i no tha need me bad in the kumpany, for tha are short on Korprils, & tha can't do nothin' without Korprils. ive jest time 2 ketch the nekst traine, & ime goin' thare ez fast ez steme kin carry me. Good-by & luv 2 all the folks. "Yours, Shorty."
Standing in his desk before the first hymn was announced, Amos cried in loud tones: 'Aw seed her mysel donce i' th' garden, on God's good Sunday morn. An' aw yerd her sing some mak' o' stuff abaat luv, and sich like rubbidge. What sort o' a wife dun yo' co that? G' me a lass as can strike up Hepzibah, and mak' a prayer. It's all o' a piece short weight i' doctrin', and falderdals i' wives.
"Oh, don't!" pleaded The Oskaloosa Kid. "Let us in," screamed the men without. "Fer the luv o' Mike have a heart! Don't leave us out here! IT's comin'! IT's comin'!" "Oh, let the poor things in," pleaded the girl on the bed. She was, herself, trembling with terror. "No funny business, now, if I let you in," commanded Bridge. "On the square," came the quick and earnest reply.
"Mummy has gone out I am to write to you I am to say good bi proply I am very fond of you but I doant luv you Mummy ses you have been very kind I wode luv you very much if you was my mummy but mummy ses she is she is I am afrade this is not spellt rite but I have got a very bad pen. "Yours affagintly, "MAURIE."
Mar. 30. brite and fair, went out with Potter Gorham. saw some toads 2 robins and a blewbird. gosh it makes a feller feel good to see birds and toads and live things. Mar. 31. April fool day tomorrow. i am laying for Beany. old Francis licked 5 fellers today becaus they sung rong when we was singing speek kindly it is better far to rule by luv than feer.
Guess it come from her mother. I 'lows she wus kind o' struck on fool things an' fixin's. Can't blame her noways. Guess I wus mostly sudden them days. Luv ut fust sight is a real good thing when it comes to savin' labor, but like all labor-savin' fixin's, it's liable to git rattled some, an' then ther' ain't no calc'latin' what's goin' to bust."
We saw sum reel wite gates, but they was loked. We mene to find sum more. Me and Nobbles runned away and hid under the sete. We did not go back no more. Plese come and see me in this house, and giv Master Mort'mer my best luv. I warnt to see him agen. I went in the rode to mete my father and he comed, but I did not no him. Thank you verry much for the piksher.
As this letter has never been printed, and as it is the only specimen extant of Mr. O'Rourke's epistolary manner, we lay it before the reader verbatim et literatim: febuary. 1864 mi belovid wife fur the luv of God sind mee pop gose the wezel. yours till deth . larry O rourke. "Pop goes the Weasel" was sent to him, and Mr.
Mi krik is bad, mi ink is pale: Mi luv for u shal never fale. Cicely followed me, anxious-eyed, for I looked bad. I dropped into a chair; and almost buryin' my face in my white linen handkerchief, I give vent to some moans of anguish, and a large number of sithes. And Cicely says, "What is the matter, aunt Samantha?" And I says, "Your poor uncle! your poor uncle!"
He started on the last journey unnoticed save by the man standing next him; and Gawd above! what's the use? They'd been together for two years, share and share alike; and now the end. Putting up a bit of rusty wire round a sap. . . . "Easy, boy, easy. 'Ere, cut them ruddy braces away. 'Orl rite, old son, you've copped a Blighty. Thro' yer stummik Gor luv yer no.
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