.MTIxNw.OTUxMTc

                                                                                        Mine was a love, warm from the heart,-
                                                                                        A blind, decieving love to me;
                                                                                        Though many told me she was false
                                                                                         I saw it not - I could not see.

                                                                                         Her every look, her every word,
                                                                                         To me seemed open, frank and free;-
                                                                                          Thus derided when they saw,
                                                                                          And kindly bade me wary be.

                                                                                         I trusted long - but found her false,-
                                                                                         Soon I recieved neglect and scorn;-
                                                                                         Too long confiding in her truth,
                                                                                         My heart is now with anguish torn.

                                                                                          I love her still - shall ever love, -
                                                                                          And O, to Heaven I'll daily pray
                                                                                          That she may never, never feel
                                                                                          Such anguish as is mine today.
                                                                                                                                      Lucy.

   I would have written it off nicely on another piece of paper if I had a good pen, to save you the trouble; but as my pen was so poor, if you think it is fit, you can write it off very plain so that blundering Edes need not make too many mistakes, sign Lucy at the bottom & hand it to him. Nobody will know what "Lucy" it is, you know.
              I wish you would send us a paper once in a while, if you even pick up one, so that we can have some to send N. We cannot get any but Farmers and Mirrors, and 

[left-hand side]If you do anything with this scribbling put a female signature to it - otherwise it will be taken for some poor broken-hearted "lover's plaint."