My sweet cousin Emily has been so touched by the sensitivity of her swain that she wishes to proclaim to the world her thanks and affection. Accordingly, her love-note to him is reprinted here. Further installments of this romantic tale will doubtless follow in the ensuing days.

quote:

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Dec 12
My dearest darling Edward,

What a wonderful surprise has just greeted me! That sweet partridge, in that lovely little pear-tree; what an enchanting, romantic, poetic present! Bless you, and thank you.

Your deeply loving
Emily

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P.S. Edward's correspondence is unavailable to me, but perhaps he will choose to publish here his portion of this idylic duet?

Dearest Emily,

So happy to hear you like the fowl and its be-peared perch. I forgot to buy the cuttlebone and seed. The partridge will not eat any of the pears, so I suggest you bustle on down to the pet store and pick up some provisions for it. It wouldn't be a bad idea to have its wings clipped. And remember to leave no open flames burning when the bird is cruising about.

My heart's light!
Edward

Again, an Emily post.

quote:

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Dec 12
Beloved Edward,

The two turtle-doves arrived this morning, and are cooing away in the pear-tree as I write. I'm so touched and grateful!

With undying love, as always,
Emily

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My darling Emily,

Please remove the turtle-doves from the pear tree immediately. The she-dove is extremely jealous and the he-dove will drive her utterly mad with his cooing at the partridge! They need to be caged, so be a love and pick up a cage by the evening, but no mirrors! The he-dove will flirt with his own image, and will also drive her crazy!

I am so happy you love my gifts!

Your love-bird,
Edward

Dec 13
My darling Edward,

You do think of the most original presents! Who ever thought of sending anybody three French hens? Do they really come all the way from France? It's a pity we have no chicken coops, but I expect we'll find some. Anyway, thank you so much; they're lovely.

Your devoted Emily

Dec. 14

Mon petite Emily,

My dear, they are just called French hens! Did you not receive the wood and chicken wire I sent from the hardware store yet? I know how much you love working with your hands, and knew you would want to make coops for them just the right size!

You are forever in my heart,

Edward

Dec 14
Dearest Edward,

What a surprise! Four calling birds arrived this morning. They are very sweet, even if they do call rather loudly--they make telephoning almost impossible--but I expect they'll calm down when they get used to their new home. Anyway, I'm very grateful, of course I am.

Love from Emily

Dec 15

Beautiful Emily,

I am so happy you love the birds! Don't worry about the phoning, you spend much too much time on that thing than you should anyway!

Now make sure to get the proper food for each. The all are such delicate birds and each has its own dietary requirements. You must hand feed the calling birds though. And be careful that they don't peck at your fingers.

I have a special surprise for you today!

Merrier and merrier,

Your loving Edward

Dec 15
Darling Edward,

A "special surprise"? Is that what you call it, you naughty boy? I look forward to seeing what pops up in the mail.

Your giggling Emily

Dec 15
Dearest Edward

The mailman has just delivered five most beautiful gold rings, one for each finger, and all fitting perfectly! A really lovely present! Lovelier, in a way, than birds, which do take rather a lot of looking after. The four that arrived yesterday are still making a terrible row, and I'm afraid none of us got much sleep last night. Mother says she wants to use the rings to "wring" their necks. Mother has such a sense of humor. This time she's only joking, I think, but I do know what she means. Still, I love the rings.

Bless you,
Emily

Dec. 16

Dearest Emily,

I'm sure the rings look wonderful on your lovely fingers. The glittery gold of the season, to thee, my dearest one.

Your girning, gallinaceous mother will get used to the birds provided you keep them caged and covered at night. She should get along quite well with them!

Forever yours,

Edward

[This message was edited by Morgan on Sun Dec 22nd, 2002 at 19:45.]

Dec. 16

Dear Emily,

The birds at you house are enough to wake the dead. Please make them be quiet or I will have to take this matter to the police.

Nick (the man next door)

Dec 16
Dear Edward,

Whatever I expected to find when I opened the front door this morning, it certainly wasn't six socking great geese laying eggs all over the porch. Frankly, I rather hoped that you had stopped sending me birds. We have no room for them, and they've already ruined the croquet lawn. Nicolo next door has been giving me the bird as well, in his rustic manner, and I am frankly worried about his Sicilian relatives.

I know you meant well, but let's call a halt, shall we?

Love,
Emily

[This message was edited by shufitz on Tue Dec 17th, 2002 at 6:04.]

Dec. 17

Emily, my dear,

The fun is just beginning! I'm sure you can gloze things with Nicolo. And a roque area takes up so much less space than the full croquette lawn. Have you considered this?

Now you will have room for a hot tub, which would be perfect for the next gift you will receive! Oh, I can hardly wait!

Forever,
Edward

[This message was edited by Morgan on Sun Dec 22nd, 2002 at 19:50.]

A small nit-pick:

The twelve days of Christmas are the days following December 25th, not, as indicated by the dates on the letters published above, the days before.

Dec 31
Edward,

I thought I said NO MORE BIRDS. This morning I woke up to find no more fewer than seven squaking swans, all trying to get into our tiny goldfish pond. I'd rather not think what's happened to the goldfish. The whole house seems to be full of birds, feathers flying, to say nothing of what they leave behind them. Strange swarthy gentlemen have been snooping the grounds, growling in italian, photographing the phone lines and security system. So please, please, stop!

Your Emily

Dec. 31

Oh, dearest Emily!

The swans would so enjoy the hot tub I suggested. Didn't you purchase that last night as I suggested? You really are not very good at austiculation, are you?
No matter! I promise, no more feathers coming your way m'dear! Oh you darling gal!

Your forever loving,

Edward

[This message was edited by Morgan on Mon Dec 23rd, 2002 at 19:15.]

Sweet Edward,
I assure you, dear one, that I am adept at austiculation. I would have bought the hot tub, as you had intended. Your gifts of Passeriformes would have pleased me.
Would that I were part of your romantic interludes.

Dreaming of Edward...
Hillary

Dec. 31

Oh, Hillary!

I thought when you were nictitating the last we saw each other, you had something in your eye. Never did I dream that you had something else on your mind! You wonderful bustluscious woman!

Don't let on your feelings for me near Emily yet. I still have more animals to get out of the stable. It is completely augean and I would like to have that taken care of promptly! I am extremely macrosmatic and the guano was getting to me.

Have you noticed how nasty Emily has become since the holiday? She sounds more and more like that mother of hers!

With loving thoughts,

Edward

[This message was edited by Morgan on Mon Dec 23rd, 2002 at 19:30.]

Jan 1

Frankly, I prefer the birds. What am I to do with eight milkmaids? And their cows! Is this some kind of a joke? If so, I'm afraid I don't find it very amusing.

And who is this Hilary person? This hussy Malaprop who says austiculation when she obviously means to feign aptness in osculation? A broad of broad (not to say professional) experience, no doubt; a maid oft made. You, with your cows and milkmaids, cavort with some swinish mulctmaid?

Emily

Jan. 1

Oh, my dear Emily,

You are beginning to sound like a gammer! I send you such wonderful gifts! Here I am ettling to find just the right one, and you act pathoctonus.

As for the cows, my cousin Richard will be delivering the hay to you today. And your gazebo will house them nicely!

You are acting more like your mother daily! I'm sorry I had to back out of our New Year's plans, but something came up. And as for Hillary, she is merely a friend from church. My goodness, you have such an active imagination! You know you are the only one in my heart.

Your utterly devoted,

Edward

[This message was edited by Morgan on Mon Dec 23rd, 2002 at 19:36.]

Jan 1

My darling Hillary,

Thank you so much for the wonderful time last night. But please do not speak of it, Emily is beginning to get suspicious and I told her you were merely a friend from church. My goodness, you do know the most intimate places to play!

Lovingly,

Edward

[This message was edited by Morgan on Thu Dec 19th, 2002 at 5:41.]

Darling Edward,
That mudsill can't even spell my name right! How did you get involved with this guttersnipe in the first place? I do hope she encounters a bandicoot when the hay is delivered today! (I am a bit naughty, am I not?)

But for you dear fellow logophile, I lust! New Years in Paris?

Adoringly,

Hillary

Jan 2
Look here, Edward,

"Merely a friend from church," you say? From CHURCH? You expect be to believe that poppycock, that flim-flam fantasy, when I've been trying to get you to the church altar for two years? I know full well where you genuflect -- and if that's a church, she's a parnel.

This has gone far enough. You say you're sending me nine ladies dancing. All I can say is, judging from the way they dance, they're certainly not ladies. The village just isn't accustomed to seeing a regiment of shameless viragos, with nothing on but their lipstick, cavorting round the green, and it's Mother and I who get the blame.

You and your polysyllabic paracoita! If you value our friendship, which I do (less and less), kindly stop this ridiculous behavior at once!

Emily

Jan. 2

Oh, my dear Emily!

Whatever happened to that jolly gal I once knew? You sound more like a beldam each day!

I assure you, when I hired the ladies, they told me they were not ecdysiasts, but rather tasteful dancers. You over-react, my dear!

Now have a cup of tea and calm yourself. I am merely expressing the spirit of the season.

Lovingly,

Edward

[This message was edited by Morgan on Mon Dec 23rd, 2002 at 19:39.]

Jan. 2

My wonderful Hillary,

Emily sure has become cimmerian lately! I think her mother is now writing me dreadful letters. There is no resemblence to the Emily I once knew.

And as for you, my wonderful "friend", I look forward to spending more time with you. Just let me get rid of the rest of this cast of characters I promised work to for the season. They are driving me insane!

Wantonly,

Edward

[This message was edited by Morgan on Mon Dec 23rd, 2002 at 19:43.]

Dear Edward,
FRIEND! Is that all I am to you, you gradgrind?! I've been lusting for you....and you call me your friend?! I want romance!.
I have planned our holiday together to perfection. During the day we will visit the Louvre, meeting at Objets d'art. My chaffeur, Richard, will drive us in my Royce to dinner at my favorite restaurant, La Bastide Saint Antoine. The best French champagne will be delivered to our room in the Philip Elyses. What happens after that will depend on you, my royal lover.....
However, you had better get that word "friend" out of your vocabulary!

Adoringly,
Hillary

[This message was edited by Kalleh on Sat Dec 21st, 2002 at 9:13.]

Jan 3

As I write this letter, ten disgusting old men are prancing up and down all over what used to be the garden, before the geese and the swans and the cows got at it. And several of them, I have just noticed, are taking inexcusable liberties with the milkmaids, who are emphatically not responding like innocent maids. Meanwhile Nicolo is prowling our grounds with his shotgun (he really is an attractive-looking man, in a swarthy sweaty muscular-peasant sort of way), and the neighbours are trying to have us evicted. I shall never speak to you again.

Emily

To interrupt this sad suspenseful tale with a bit of levity, you may enjoy this link. When you get there, switch if necessary to the December 22 version.

Jan. 3

Emily,

I'm sure you over-react again, my dear. The maids, and the lords will only be performing for another few days. Surely they will keep you in smiles! Would you have preferred quotidian gifts? I think not! Not for a woman as unusual as thee!

And now you have your eye on Nicolo? When tis I who present you with such wonderful gifts?


Hmmmmmph!

Edward

[This message was edited by Morgan on Mon Dec 23rd, 2002 at 19:46.]

Jan. 3

Dear Chris,

Listen, I'm doing the best I can to win that bar bet. I got 17 of those hookers and 10 of the guys playing a gig over on Chattam Hill. I just have to get the other 23 guys over there in two more days, and Bobby will owe me big time! Thanks for coming up with the bagpipes for me. Where did you say you got them anyway?

Regards,

Edward

Jan. 3

Dear Dad,

As you requested, I got all the animals out of the barn. All the birds and those loud cows. As soon as I win this bar bet, I'll hire some guys to clean it out too.

Edward

PS Is this enough to get me back into the will?

Mr. Beastly, while delivering the most recent load of gifts, was unaware that the following letter had dropped from his breast pocket.

[letterhead of Sybaris Gentlemen's Club
Purveyors of Ecdysiam and Lap-Dances to the Gentility]

To: Mr. Edward Beastly, MP

We regret to inform you that your cheque, for the bacchanal of the evening of 31 Dec. 2002 through 1 Jan. 2003, was returned by your banking institution marked "Insufficient Fun". Accordingly, we herewith submit our itemized invoice.

Party of 4, including hostesses:
(personal services to gentlemen other than Mr. Beastly have been billed separately)
320£ – Champagne – 16 bottles @ 20£
200£ – Slippers (size 14EEE) destroyed by drinking champagne therefrom: 8 @ 25£
800£ – Hostesses (4), 8:00 - 12:00 PM @ 50£/hr. each
900£ – Personal services of Ms. Hillary Clit-on, 12:00 PM - 9:00 AM; @ 100£/ hr.
270£ – Letting of private guest bedroom, 12:00 PM - 9:00 AM @ 30£/ hr. (double occupancy)
15£ – Cab delivering Mr. Beastly to his abode, 10:00AM
300£ – Payments to constabulary as gratuities for inattention

Grand total: 2805£

We trust to your prompt attention, etc., etc.

January 3

Edward!

You stood me up, you kiyoodle!

There I was roaming the Louvre, looking for you! Finally, I dined by myself. Fortunately, a French Gentleman, by the name of Safi, joined me. He is a jovial little fellow (though he kept confusing me with his talk of "elucidation") and oh so gentlemanly. He swept me off my feet....and we had a glorious evening sipping champagne until early in the morning.

You, my ex-lover, are history, as they say in the states.

Your ex,
Hillery

Jan. 4

Dear Emily,

My you looked so lovely today. How about I shoot one of your geese and have you over for dinner soon. It shall be loads of fun. I have seen you watching me so, I have also been watching you. please respond or it will surely break my heart.

love Undoubtly
Nicolo

Jan 4
This is the last straw! You know I detest bagpipes! The place has now become something between a menagerie and a madhouse, and a man from the council has just declared it unfit for habitation. At least Mother has been spared this last outrage; they took her away yesterday afternoon in an ambulance. I hope you're satisfied.

I now see what sort of man you are to associate with the likes of Miss Hilary C... (I can't bring myself to say it), and it was not difficult to deduce that your supposed "maids" and "ladies" find their regular employment at the Sybaris. I shall shortly contact the constabulary (Vice Squad).

But Nicolo is coming with his shot-gun....

[This message was edited by shufitz on Thu Dec 26th, 2002 at 19:39.]

Nicolo,

Oh how brave and chivalrous you are to slay those nasty geese, swans and ducks that have been a fowl plague upon us. The sight of you in brave manly combat has stirred my blood.

Caro mia, I shall visit you this evening for the feast you proposed, and hope that for "dessert" you will come over afterwards. [blush]

Your Emily

Jan 4

To: Miss Emily Wickersham
From: Constabulary (Vice Squad)

We suggest benign neglect may be a fruitful course. By our calculations and experience, the aggregate number of males of various sorts (lords, pipers, drummers) will soon equal the number of females (maids and ladies). At that point we foresee an outbreak of pairing amongst them for matrimonial domesticity. We feel particularly confident that such will occur, for we have long noted with high esteem the practiced charms of the maids and ladies in question.

Sergeant O'Malley

Jan. 5

Emily,

You and your mother are non compos mentis anyway! That lady should have been taken away years ago! When I heard "They're Coming to Take Me Away, Ha-haaa!" years ago, I knew it was written about her! You both need straitjackets!

As for Nicolo, you should thank me! It took me showing you affection before he had enough mettle to show his!

Edward

Dewey, Cheatham & Howe, Barristers
Gringotts Building, 9th Level
Diagon Alley, London, England
Our motto: Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here.

Mr. Edward Beastly
Beastly, Rotten & Scoundrel
De-basement Level
Shitehill Towers
London W1

Jan. 5, 2003

Sir:

Our client, Miss Emily Wickersham, instructs me to inform you that with the arrival on her premises at 7:30 this morning of the entire percussion section of the London Misharmonia Orchestra, and several of their friends, she has no course left open to her but to seek an injunction to prevent you importuning her further. I am making arrangements for the return of much assorted livestock.

You may anticipate receipt by separate post of various legal actions I have been instructed to initiate against you on behalf of Miss Wickersham, and also on behalf of several other clients who have been both injured and outraged by your behavior. It is now you, and not Miss Wickersham, who is [as they say] "in deep s**t".

Please be informed that Miss Wickersham has now found the true love of her life, has been so fortunate has to find her passion reciprocated, and has eloped to a location to forever remain unknown to you. By the time you receive this missive our client will be playing a sweet duet, and will then and thereafter have the honour to be known as Mrs. Emily Wickersham Corleone.

I am, Sir,

yours faithfully,
I. Suem, Barrister

Day 1

Dear Boudreaux,
Thanks for de bird in de Pear tree. I fix it las' night with dirty rice. I doan tink de pear tree will grow in the swamp, so I swap it for a Satsuma.

Day 2

Dear Boudreaux,
You letter say you sent two turtle doves, but all I got was two scrawny pigeons. Anyway, I mixed dem with andouille an made some gumbo out of dem.

Day 3

Dear Boudreaux,
Why doan you sent some crawfish? I'm tired of eating dem darn birds. I gave two of dose prissy French chickens to Marie Trahan over at Grans Bayou an fed the tird one to my dog, Phideaux. Marie needed some sparring partners for her fighting rooster.

Day 4

Dear Boudreaux,
Mon Dieux! I tol you no more friggin birds. Deez four, what you call dem "calling birds" were so noisy you could hear dem all de way to Napoleonville. I used dere necks for my crab traps, an fed de rest of dem to de gators.

Day 5

Dear Boudreaux,
You finally sent somethin useful. I like dem golden rings, me. I hocked dem at da pawn shop in Thibodeaux and got enuf money to fix da shaft on my shrimp boat an buy a round for da boys at de Raisin' Cane Lounge. Merci Beaucoup!

Day 6

Dear Boudreaux,
Couchon! Back to da birds, you coonass turkey! Poor egg suckin' Phideaux is scared to death at dem six geeeses. He tried to eat dems eggs and dey peck de heck out ah his snout. Dey good at eating cockroaches, though. I may stuff one of dem wit erster dressing on Christmas day.

Day 7

Dear Boudreaux,
I'm gonna wring your fool neck next time I see you. Thibeau, da mailman, is ready to kill ya. The merde from all dem birds is stinkin' up his mailboat. He afraid someone will slip on dat stuff and sue him good! I let those seven swans loose to swim on de bayou and some duck hunters from Mississippi blasted dem out of de water. Talk to you tomorrow.

Day 8

Dear Boudreaux,
Poor ole Thibeau, he had to make tree trips on his mailboat to deliver dem 8 maids a milkin and their cows. One of dem cows got spooked by da alligators and almost tipped over da boat. I doan like dem shiftless maids, me no. I tolt dem to get to work guttin fish and sweeping the shack but dey say it wasn't in dair contract. Dey probably think they to good ta skin the nutrias I caught las night.

Day 9

Dear Boudreaux,
What you trying to do, huh? Thibeau had to borrow the Lutcher ferry to carry dem jumpin twits you call Lords-a-Leaping across the bayou. As soon as dey gots here dey wanted a tea break with crumpets. I doan know what dat means but I says, "Well La Di Da. You get Chicory coffee or nuttin." Mon Dieu, Emile. What I'm gonna feed all dese bozos? Dey too snooty for fried nutria, and de cows done eat my turnip greens.

Day 10

Dear Boudreaux,
You got to be outs you mind! If de mailman don't kill you, I will for sure. Today he deliver 10 half-nakid floozies from Bourbon Street. Dey said dey be "Ladies Dancin" but dey doan act like ladies in front of dose Limey twits. Dey almos left after one of dem got bit by a water moccasin over by da out-house. I had to butcher 2 cows to feed toute le monde an get toilet paper. The Sears catalog wasn't good enuf fer dose hoity toity lords' royal behin.

Day 11

Dear Boudreaux,
Where Y'at. Cheerio an pip pip. Your 11 pipers piping arrives today from the House of Blues, second lining as dey got off de boat. We fixed stuffed goose and beef jambalaya, finished da whiskey and we having a fais-do-do. Da new mailman he drink a bottle of Jack Daniel an he having a good time yeah dancing with de floozies. Thibeau he jump off de Sunshine Bridge yesterday, screaming your name. If you get a mysterious, ticking package in de mail, doan open it man.

Day 12

Dear Boudreaux,
I sorry to tell ya but I not your true love anymore, no. After da fais-do-do, I spent de night with Jacque, de head piper. We decide to open a restaurant and gentleman's club on de bayou. The floozies, pardon me, Ladies Dancing can make $20 for a table dance, and de lords can be waiters an valet park de boats. Since de maids have no more cows ta milk, I trained dem ta set my crab traps, watch my trotlines, an run my shrimping business. We'll prob'ly gross a million clams nex year.

Today's word was gallimaufry, you recall. I excerpt the account below from The Guardian of a couple of years ago, but the full article is well worth reading.

quote:

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...gifts alleged by Dame Joan Sutherland to have been showered on her over Christmas by her true love. The process, as she recalled it, began unobjectionably, as Dame Joan took delivery of a partridge in a pear tree. Subsequent days brought, in modest numbers, various species of bird: turtle doves, French hens and calling birds - all listed by Dame Joan in a tripping, insouciant manner. At this point, however, her manner changed. [etc., etc.]

I began to assess its dire implications for public health and animal welfare. [etc., etc.]

What happened to this gallimaufry of people and birds once the 12 days of Christmas were over is something of which Dame Joan neither sang nor spoke.

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