Toward twilight a big miner from three miles away came--one of the grizzled, stranded pioneers--and gave us warm salutation, clothed in grave and sober speech.

Then he said: "I only just dropped over to ask about the little madam, and when is she coming home.

Any news from her ?" "Oh, yes, a letter.

Would you like to hear it, Tom ?" "Well, I should think I would, if you don't mind, Henry!" Henry got the letter out of his wallet, and said he would skip some of the private phrases, if we were willing; then he went on and read the bulk of it--a loving, sedate, and altogether charming and gracious piece of handiwork, with a postscript full of affectionate regards and messages to Tom, and Joe, and Charley, and other close friends and neighbors.
As the reader finished, he glanced at Tom, and cried out: "Oho, you're at it again! Take your hands away, and let me see your eyes.

You always do that when I read a letter from her.