I reckon you have a little mix up with this here Becky. Turns out she ‘taint happy with you. The problem with this thang is that you said this and that about Amy Lawrence. By golly you made the poor little Becky cry. Sayin’ a lady's name other than your love's isn't the way to her heart. She might think that you're still with that little lady. If you just say her name out of the blue like that, it's bound to get you in trouble. You tried to get ‘er back by givin’ her a brass andiron knob. But when she gave it back, by hokey nothin’ could make you feel worse. Your problem with Miss Becky is that you ain’t thinkin’ about her; her feelings.
         I reckon you take my advise and keep mum about Amy Lawrence; at least when you’re around Becky. You dasn’t given her a flower. A flower is one of the best ways to get a girl. It is very gay to see the look on a girl’s face after you given her a flower. But givin’ a lady somethin’ isn’t always the way to ‘er heart. You might also try takin’ my advise and apologize to her. Apologize to her so politely and heart-thought that she dasn’t a choice but to take you back.
          You golly might as well not be afeard to take my advise because I am a girl myself. I know how we think. Us women don’t reckon a gentleman to mention another honey’s name when around us. We get angered. We get jealous. Trust me, Tom, you ain’t gonna mess with us girls again after you make a silly mistake, because if you do, we’ll come back never the same again.

         You’ve got yourself a major problem with this whole murderin’ thang. You see, now if you tell someone that it wasn’t Muff Potter that killed Doc Robinson, it was Injun Joe, then you will die ‘cause of the broken promise. But if you don’t tell, then Muff Potter will die for being accused of murderin’ a bein’. Either you or he dies. This is a tough decision. You’ve got to make a decision fast, fella’, because I reckon’ pretty soon, someone’s gonna get put to death for murderin’, but it won’t be the right lad.
         Take my gay advise and tell. Tell everyone whatcha saw down in the woods the other night. Tell everyone that Injun Joe killed Doc Robinso n, and let him get what he deserves. Death. Don’t be fooled by the silly superstition that leads you into the wrong path. By hokey, you will not die for breakin’ promise, man! Forget everything you know about dyin’. I know you love to fantasize about it, but it probably ain’t gon’ happin’ ‘till you old. Just let my advise lead you. Tell.
        My advise is the best way to go in this here mix up ‘cause I myself have been faced with decisions like this. "Should I tell Mom that I broke the lamp, and it wasn’t my big brother?" I remember thinkin’ back that tellin’ ‘er was the best decision I’d made that day. The guilt goes away. And besides,  there ‘taint a way that you’ll die for tellin’ the secret. Think logically here. If you did die, how could you? Would your heart just automatically stop beating, and you’d suffocate to death? Would all of the muscles and functions in your body shut down in just one brief moment? I do not reckon it true that you’d drop down dead in your tracks for tellin’ a little broken promise. SO JUST TELL!

                                                                        Sincerely,
                                                                    Elizabeth Hull