"TRUTH STRANGER THAN FICTION."
MR. GODEY: Miss Snipe left my house in great haste on the second day of April, forgetting, in her precipitation, several articles of her wardrobe and her portfolio. While waiting an opportunity to forward them to Wimpleton, a natural impulse of curiosity induced me to examine the contents of the portfolio, when, lo and behold, a letter, directed to yourself, fell on the floor. Being loosely folded and unsealed, I ventured to open it, supposing it merely a business communication. Imagine my surprise on discovering the nature of its contents, for I had been unable to penetrate the reasons of her hurried departure; but do not, I pray you, accuse me of having read it through.
Finding, as far as I proceeded, nothing very heinous laid to myself, nor any insinuations against my table, I judge proper to forward it without delay, according to the address. However, I can with difficulty forgive her for calling my boy a "cub," and think, moreover, that her dislike towards my Irish inmate is unreasonable. As to Mr. Sparks—I do not blame her so much—he has not yet paid me those gloves. And as to the writer herself, I am really astonished—we all thought her such a quiet and unobservant little body—on becoming acquainted with this spirited volley from her pen. Will there not be both laughing and wry faces in my household, if you publish it? And, though April is gone (I am sorry the letter was not sooner found), do give the world the benefit of her experience, to oblige and amuse
Yours, faithfully,
HELEN MASHUM.
April 1, 1854.
MY DEAR MR. EDITOR: Such a tumult as we have all day been in, by reason of that abominable practice of "fooling," has been enough to destroy the patience of a saint. I am nearly out of my wits. Here have I come, at my niece's invitation, to spend a fortnight with her, in a boarding-house. "She was lonely," she said; "Mr. Sparks was so much at the office; and it would be such a favor if I could stay with her a few days."
So I have come from my quiet country home, fifteen miles off, to this noisy town that calls itself a city, to visit Ann Sophia; and, between you and me, I was an April fool from the beginning. There are several other young married women boarding in the same house, who, like my flighty niece, have apparently nothing under the sun to do but go shopping and pop in and out of each other's rooms. Some of them are in her parlor every evening when she is not out at parties or lectures, and, as she spins street yarn every morning, I cannot for the life of me see what opportunity she takes to be lonesome. But I do see that she gives herself no time to keep her husband's shirts made up and in order; and I find that I have no lack of employment, for she has kept me sewing ever since I came.
"Sophy, dear," says I, the morning after my arrival, "give me some sewing; I cannot be idle, and have nothing but this knitting to do for myself."
Whereupon she brought out a whole piece of fine bleached cloth, and proposed that we should amuse ourselves by making it into shirts for her husband.