“Garg Plummer.
“Answer me sone lov.”
The fourth letter I reprint simply to show how a little greed may kill all the romance of a negro’s love. We trace an artificiality in his love passages. It is hoped that his note produced nothing but a silent contempt:—
“I writ to hear from you wether you intend to make me a fool. I is not a puppy show that you think you find any better than me. i witch (wish) to send the yam bed for plantin in your garden, but i do not know wether i will reap the benefit of it.”
Number five is honest but unhappy. He is filled with forebodings of evil. The green-eyed monster has claimed him as his very own:—
“My Dear Jemima—I has not heard from you for dis 2 weeks gorn. Has you forgot de day wen
you mek me promise to be my true luv? You must know dat I has heard a lot of tings about you which has been sorely disappoint me in you.