POETICAL AND HUMOROUS ADDRESSES UPON LETTERS. The exterior, as well as the interior of a letter is sometimes made the vehicle of sentiment, affection, wit, fun, and the like, which, thus riding as outside passengers, display their beauties to the gaze of those connected with post-offices. In such instances, it may be that the writer's ideas, gushing from his pen, have overflowed their bounds, and spread themselves upon the usually dry surface of the epistle. It must be a pleasing relief to post-office clerks, wearied with the monotonous task of turning up innumerable names, to find the flowers of fancy and imagination supplanting the endless catalogue of Smiths and Browns which ordinarily meet their eyes. Below are a few specimens of these embellished addresses. The first is probably from some home-sick miner. It was mailed at San Francisco, California. His wife and children have no doubt derived, long ere this, the pleasure which he anticipated for them, in the perusal of the letter:— Go, sheet, and carry all my heart;
(I would that thou couldst carry me,)
Freighted with love thou wilt depart
Across the land, across the sea.
O'er thee will bend a loving face.
To thee will listen little ears;
Thou wilt be welcomed in my place.
And thou wilt bring both smiles and tears.
Across the land, across the sea.
Thy homeward course thou wilt pursue.
I may not see them welcome thee.
Yet know I well their hearts are true.
Then swiftly go, thou ocean steed;
Roll on, ye rapid iron wheels.
Bearing away, with careless speed.
The message that my soul reveals.
| The address followed, in plain prose.
Rail road, steamboats, horses, stages.
All of you are paid your wages.
All of you, for nothing better
Than to take this little letter.
Should the document miscarry.
Uncle Sam will see "old Harry!"
To prevent this dread collision.
I present unto your vision
State, county, and between, the town.
Indiana, Nashville, Brown.
For Mrs. Jane Eliza Brent.
This is enough,—now "let her went."
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Here is a specimen in a less elevated strain:— Robber, shouldst thou seize this letter.
Break it not; there's nothing in't.
Nought for which thou wouldst be better:
Note of bank, or coin from mint.
There is nothing but affection.
And perhaps a little news;
When you've read this, on reflection.
Take or leave it as you choose.
If you should conclude to leave it.
I would like to have it go
To Seth Jones, who will receive it
In the town we call Glasgow.
And the state of old Kentucky,
(There's no rhyme for that but "lucky.") |
The following seems to have been the superscription to a dun, written "more in sorrow than in anger." A hard old hoss is Charley Cross.
And I don't care who knows it;
He's borrowed an X, and never expects
I'll dun him, so he goes it.
He'll find he's mistaken, and won't save his bacon.
Unless he sends me the tin:
In the city of Penn, somewhere is his den;
I can't tell what state he is in.
Perhaps he's "slewed," or may be, pursued
By some other man he owes.
Whichever it is, when this meets his phiz.
My account he had better close. | The street and number were subjoined; but it is to be feared that the "old hoss" proved hard-bitted, and would have nothing to do with "checks," except those in his favor.
Post master dear.
I greatly fear
That this letter never will go
To him I write.
Unless to your sight
The name I plainly show.
'Tis Thomas Brown.
The name of his town
Is Hartford; the county the same.
Land of steady habits.
Famed for onions and rabbits.
The place whence once I came. |
This is apparently an outpouring of the sorrows of a victim to the Maine law, and was mailed in that state:— Oh John O'Brien, half of you is better than the whole.
For that would be a Demi-John, my sorrow to console.
Oh dear O'Brien, briny tears into my whiskers roll.
To think that you live in New York, while here is not a soul
To stand treat; or in other words, to "pass the flowing bowl." |
All flesh is grass: all paper's rags,
(So it is said by wicked wags.)
But I would like to pass along
Among th' epistolary throng.
Till I reach the town of Kent
Nor to a paper mill be sent.
And come to an untimely end.
Before I find my writer's friend;
Whose name is Putnam, or Sam Put.
In the old State Connecticut. |
This is going to my tailor.
A trust-worthy man is he;
Like a clock, for ever ticking.
He keeps his account with me.
To send my bill I here request him
For the br—ches he has made:
Thanks to good old uncle Samuel.
He must send it on pre-paid. | (The address was in prose.)
When you C this letter.
You'd better letter B.
For it is going over
Unto Tom McG.
In the town of Dover.
State of Tennessee. |
Address on a Valentine: Mr. Post Master, keep this well,
for every line is going to tell
how much I love my Bill Martell.
Syracuse, N. Y. |
I want this letter to go right straight
To Wilmington city in Delaware State.
To Daniel B. Woodard, a cooper by trade;
He can make as good barrels as ever were made.
|
Swiftly hasten, Postman's organ.
Bear this onward to its fate.
In New York to George C. Morgan;
John Street, No. 78. |
East 10th Street, City of New York.
Two hundred fifty-three—
Is where of all this little work.
This moment ought to be.
And could I to the lightning's wing
Or telegraphic wire.
Attach it by a silken string,
'Twould be my fond desire.
But since to do the swift exploit
Each other power must fail.
I send to Emily Bailey Hoyt.
With pleasure—in the mail.
|
I know a man, his name is Dunn!
He lives in splendid style:
But if he'd pay—say half his debts.
He'd lose 'bout all his "pile."
He stops in Charlestown, old Bay State.
Quite near to Bunker Hill.
Where many a brave man met his fate.
Dispensing Putnam Pill.
|
A VALENTINE ADDRESS.
Lizzie, they say the little birds
Are making matches now;
(Warranted to keep in any climate.)
A good example they have set
Which I would like to follow;
So if you have a heart to let.
I hope to know to-morrow. |
On the river Hudson.
In the town of Troy.
Lives Miss Sarah Judson
Full of life and joy.
'Tis for that sweet creature
This epistle's meant;
If it does but reach her.
I shall be content. |
The following address was found on a missive which passed through the New York office on or about the 14th of February, and was secured with a seal representing Cupid taking aim at one of his victims with a revolver: Cupid's mother has supplied him
With "six shooters" for his bow;
When he'd arrows I defied him;
Now, alas! he's laid me low.
Here I send, done up in paper.
Fanny May, my heart to you.
I think you will keep it safer
Than I've done,—so now adieu. | The town and state were in prose.
Send this, Post Master, if you are willing.
To John M. P——, a darned old villain.
Let it go without Postage Bounty.
To Union Valley, Cortland County.
|
Take me along in haste I pray.
To John O'Donnel without delay.
The postage is paid, there is no excuse
If I'm not delivered at Syracuse.
|
Let nought impede thy progress.
While on thy journey going.
And quickly may'st thou be received.
By John, or Pardon Bowen.
Albany, N. Y. |
Miss Kate May,
Somewhere in New York City.
I hope to goodness she will receive
this missive.
|
John M. Simpson, Dedham.
Mill Village.
Mass.
in care of John Lee,
the man that speaks through
his nose or with the crucket foot.
|
For Nevel Kelly, Degrau St.,
next shanty to the river in the rear
of the grave-stone yard.
Brooklyn, N. Y. |
New Haven, post-office
State of Connecticut
Brown Street
Number 58
For elen Rumford
under care of mister allen
And if the main law folks up there don't like the name of Rumford
i can't help it. |
for
Brigded Livingston no 16 post
office city Hartford, State of
Cannada or three-ways to No 39
America.
|
To Thos. Walsh362 3rd Avenue
or if not there(New York
To the care of America
Jerrimiah O Droyer—No—173
South street South Troy New York
To be forwarded
To Mary Dohorty (For Thos. Walsh
(in haste America
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To Mr. Leedfara, who runs the ferry
over across to Long Island for Mary
Maguire New York.
|
Mistress Crovor Keeps
a stand in the
hutson dippo—New York
lives in reed street.
|
Direct this letter to
315 Second floor
Back room for Kate
Barrey washington street
New York
in heast.
|
To the Lady that wears a white cloak Straw
Bonnett trimmed with Blue & wears a blue
veil, brown or striped dress
No — Bleeker street
New York.
|
To Don Tom Rigan
and Monseer Birch—
To New York city straight let this 'ere letter go
Right to der corner of der Bowery and Grand
Into Jim Story's place which every one must know
Onto I forgot his name's old oyester stand.
The blades it's intended for are hearty and frisky.
You'll find backe of der bar, where yer give dis letter.
The postman may find himself a cocktail der better.
|
P.O. No 9 Albany Street
Boston State of Mass for Michael
Ryan tailor and if he do not
live here i expect that the
Person who will live here will
forward this letter to him
if they chance to know
where he live.
|
Mister John Shane
Syracuse
No 152 Salina Street
your parents are here,
and state New York city
North America.
|
William Doger Syracuse
Corner of James and Warren
street undago county state
of new york—america—
care for John Burk or
Jeremiah Burk paid
or Else where
|
The American Girl who
wants a place, 329 Sixth
Avenue, up two flights of
Stairs, Back Room.
|
Thadeus M. Guerai Esqr.
son of Pat Guerai, Late Manager
of the Devon estate, County
Limerick Ireland, and husband
of Sarah Coburn Harding;
Niece of Major Harding
of Harding Grove, County
Limerick Ireland—
Care of B. Douglass & Co.
Charlestown
S.C. |
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