To Mr. Moses Porter.
Sunday, Feb’y 14.
Only think, Moses, I was from home when you passed thro’ town! I did not
expect you so soon, altho’ you said you should return on Friday. I
thought _something_ might detain you in Wiscassett longer than you
expected; but you are one of those odd fellows which nothing can turn
aside, no, not even the most sparkling pair of black eyes in the world
could detain you a moment longer than you first intended,—what a
philosopher in this age of gallantry to remain untainted! It will come
at last, Moses. Belamy says there is as much a time for love as for
death, and every one as surely one time or other will feel it. I expect
to see you throw off the Philosopher and assume the man; one more trial
and I will pronounce you invulnerable. For Miss T——, this one is
reserved. I long to see how you will look when (to use a religious
phrase) you are struck down. Pray write me as soon as you receive this
and tell me about your journey; don’t wait as long as you commonly do.
Adieu.