"Some months since I had a lover whom I adored, and who said he adored me. But as Shakspeare has said, 'The course of true love never did run smooth;' ours soon became an up-hill affair, my lover proved false, ceased his visits, and sat on the other side of the meeting-house. On my writing to him and desiring an explanation, he insultingly replied, that I was not what his fancy had painted me. Was that _my_ fault? false, fickle, ungenerous man! But I was not thus to be deceived and shuffled off. No; I employed the best counsel in the State and commenced an action for damages, determined to get some balm for my wounded feelings; but owing to the premature death of my principal witness, I lost the case and the costs were heavy. The excitement and worry of the trial brought on a fever, and I found myself on my recovery, five hundred dollars in debt; I intend to pay every cent of this, but how am I to pay it? My salary for teaching school is small and it will take me many years. I want you, therefore, to assist me by writing out my story and giving me the book. I will furnish all the facts, and the story, written out by your magic pen, would be a certain success. A publisher in this city has agreed to publish it for me if you will write it. I could then triumph over the villain who so basely deceived me. "Please send me an early answer, as the publisher referred to is in a great hurry. "Very respectfully yours, "SARAH JARMESIN." "Well," said Ruth, laughing, "my bump of invention will be entirely useless, if my kind friends keep on furnishing me with subjects at this rate. Here is letter No. 2." "DEAR 'FLOY':