April 22, 1896
Due preparation should be made for the sacred rite by carefully kalsomining the teeth, papering the chin and disinfecting the breath. Then, “catch your hare.” Lead her out into the dewy garden about 11 p.m. and watch until the moon slides behind the cloud. Then slip one arm around her taper waist, and draw her gently, but firmly unto your manly brisket. Of course she will murmur “don’t,” but never mind. Tilt her chin to an angle of forty five degrees — not suddenly as though you were trying to break her neck, but adroitly, imperceptibly. Don’t be in a hurry. Give her time to wonder what’s going to happen next. Be sure the bulldog’s tied and the old man is comfortably settled for the night. A fellow’s nerve must be in good condition to really enjoy a kiss. Now’s your time. Don’t peck at the persimmon like a shanghai chicken picking up corn, but settle down on her lips like a carrier pigeon coming home to roost. Don’t be in a hurry. She wants to call you a “naughty man” and threaten to “tell ma,” but don’t give her a chance. She’ll forget it if you’ll only keep her mouth other wise engaged until the moon peeps out from behind the cloud. Of course she’ll tell you that you are the first man that ever kissed her — but you aren’t. She’ll protest that she’s really angry, but she’ll not sue you for damages. She’ll be too busy looking for another cloud to even think of the courts.