“So, after thinking about it for some time, I have concluded to send them to you, who are the rightful keeper of his happiness, as well as of his letters.  I trust that you may find a place for these among those which he has addressed to you.  Wishing you all happiness in the future, believe me to be

“Very sincerely and affectionately yours.”

[Sidenote:  On the Firing Line]

The dainty and appropriate wedding gift is not often shown to the happy man, but every page and every line is carefully read.  Now and then the bride-elect advances boldly to the firing line and writes a letter of thanks after this fashion: 

“It is very sweet and thoughtful of you, my dear friend, to send me the letters.  Of course I shall keep them in with mine, though I have but few, for the dear boy has never been able to leave me for more than a day, since first we met.

“Long before we became engaged, he made me a present of your letters to him, which he said were well worth the reading, and indeed, I have found them so.  I shall arrange them according to date and sequence, though I observe that you have written much more often than he—­I suppose because we foolish women can never say all we want to in one letter and are compelled to add postscripts, sometimes days apart.

“Believe me, I fully appreciate your wishes for our happiness.  I trust you may come to us often and see how your hopes are fulfilled.  With many thanks for your loving thought of me, as ever,

Affectionately yours.”

[Sidenote:  If a Girl is in Love]

If a girl is in love, she carries the last letter inside her shirt-waist in the day time, and puts it under her pillow at night, thereby expecting dreams of the beloved.

But the dispenser of nocturnal visions delights in joking, and though impalpable arms may seem to surround the sleeping spinster and a tender kiss may be imprinted upon her lips, it is not once in seventeen days that the caresses are bestowed by the writer of the letter.  It is a politician whose distorted picture has appeared in the evening paper, some man the girl despises, the postman, or worse yet, the tramp who has begged bread at the door.

[Sidenote:  When a Man is in Love]

When a man is in love, he carries the girl’s last letter in his pocket until he has answered it and has another to take its place.  He stoops to no such superstition as placing it under his pillow.  Neither is it read as often as his letters to her.

A woman never really writes to the man she loves.  She simply records her fleeting moods—­her caprice, her tenderness, and her dreams.  Because of this, she is often misunderstood.  If the letter of to-day is different from that of yesterday, her lover, in his heart at least, accuses her of fickleness.

A man’s letters to a girl are very frequently shown to her most intimate friend, if they are sufficiently ardent, but a man never shows the letters of a woman he truly cares for, unless he feels the need of some other masculine intellect to assist him in comprehending the lady of his heart.