MORE CORRESPONDENCE.
Long Branch, August 24th.
Dear Weekly:—I seaze the opportunity—opportunitys are like pullet's eggs, they are small, and don't cum only one at a time—tew tell yu by letter how mutch I am infatuated with Long Branch.
I arrived hear tew weeks ago, just in time tew see the Atlantick Ocean, which iz now on exhibition and doing a swelling bizziness tew full houses.
The fust thing I did after mi arrival waz tew go in, and I waz astonished tew find the water so high seasoned. I asked an intelligent natiff who stood on the bank, with both ov hiz hands in hiz pantaloon pockets, the cauze ov this saltuous phenomenon, and he informed me "he didn't care."
I think the cuss lied.
It iz perfectly heart-rending, and fills one ov mi mellow nature with tumults ov genuwine sorrow, tew see the gross amount ov young femailes here on track ov husbands and prospective fathers.
I counted 16 yesterday in one pile. They all drew in their breaths as I passed by them with downcast eyes. I felt sorry awl the way through for them, but couldn't give them enny releaf, for I am thoroughly marrid, and intend to keep so.
Shoddy and Petroleum are both here, az full ov wind az a bellows, and attrakt az mutch attention az a pattent churn, warranted tew make good sweet butter from skim milk in ten minits; but they say "they shan't remain long, bekause it smells so much like old brine."
Yesterday I went out a crabbing, and caught a cart load ov them (several ov them with my hands).