Miss Celia Potts to a confidential Female Friend.
Oh, my dear Charlotte,
What do you think? Mr. Pippy, the young apothecary, who came down here to take our union of fourteen parishes at £20 a-year, has sent me a Valentine. Not a common, impudent penny one of an old maid, with cats and parrots all about her, but a beautiful picture of a little Cupid—such a love!—riding in a thingemygig, drawn by two what-d'ye-call-'ems, with—oh, my!—eight lovely verses underneath. I know it's from him, because it's scented all over with the best Turkey rhubarb and oil of peppermint, and I found a small piece of pill adhering to the envelope—how a trifle betrays the secrets of the heart! My mind is all in a titter-totter—do come and see me.
Yours very sincerely,
Celia Potts.
Chawturmut,
Feb. 14.
III.
Mr. Pippy to Miss Potts.
Adored Celia,