The effort was so exhausting that he had to go down to the spring, take a deep drink of cold water, and bathe his forehead. But his determination was unabated, and before the sun went down he had produced the following:
"i talk mi pen in hand 2 inform U that ive reseeved the SOX
U so kindly cent, & i thank U 1,000 times 4 them. They are
boss sox & no mistake. They are the bossest sox that ever
wuz nit. The man is a lire who sez they aint. He dassent tel
Me so. U are a boss nitter. Even Misses Clinkun can't hold a
candle 2 U.
"The sox fit me 2 a t, but that is becaws they are nit so
wel, & stretch."
"I wish I knowed some more real strong words to praise her knitting," said Shorty, reading over the laboriously-written lines. "But after I have said they're boss what more is there to say? I spose I ought to say something about her health next. That's polite." And he wrote:
"ime in fair helth, except my feet are" locoed, & i weigh
156 pounds, & hope U are injoying the saim blessing."
"I expect I ought to praise her socks a little more," said he, and wrote:
"The SOX are jest boss. They outrank anything in the Army of
the Cumberland."
After this effort he was compelled to take a long rest. Then he communed with himself:
"When a man's writin' to a lady, and especially an educated lady, he should always throw in a little poetry. It touches her."
There was another period of intense thought, and then he wrote:
"Dan Elliott is my name,
& single is my station,
Injianny is mi dwelling place,
& Christ is mi salvation."