"I cannot write more—non sum qualis eram! yet the sun shines brightly on me still as in my childhood, and the future is full of hope. If I have cleared myself of the imputation of the folly and heartlessness some have laid to my charge, it is well; I cannot think that my proceedings have been very dreadful, or sinful; they did not frighten honest-hearted, noble Ned Graham.
"And after this, when you see a woman whose conduct to you is quite unexplainable, and full of mystery, listen, dear friend, and bid those around you listen a little more earnestly, to the voice of human love and Christian charity; and trust me, the number of women who have the power to act long in direct opposition to all the better impulses of woman's nature, is surprisingly small.
"If your trust continues in me still unshaken, as in the days gone by, come ere long to Wisconsin, and I will insure you a husband of the 'free soil,' who shall bear as little resemblance to our faithless George, as my Ned does—and a home in the wilderness, this glorious wilderness.
"God bless you, love—good bye!—--."
"I have not yet obeyed the call of my friend to the far west," now her happy home. Do you think it advisable that I should place myself in the hands of such a—; but first let me ask you,
Do you think Florence Cleveland was a coquette?
And—is this once prolific topic yet exhausted?
I cannot conclude this discourse, "my hearers," without repeating to you a song, which appeared some years ago in "Graham." It is by Miss Barrett. Has it ever yet been "set to music?" if not, I would advise some composer to neglect no longer so beautiful an effusion. And when the deed is done, let every lady learn the song, and every gentleman stand by and listen to it humbly. Here it is.
THE LADY'S YES.
"Yes!" I answered you last night—
"No'!" this morning, sir, I say;
Colors seen by candlelight,
Cannot look the same by day.