The independent press. (Abbeville C.H., S.C.) 1853-1860, 1859-04-15
Lcve In a Printing Office

once heard an old Journevman remark
hat printing office was no place for-love
making. and l have since experienced the
truth Of that expression being now perfect,
" convinced that the flower Of love can
never bloom in the midst Of types, cases
and printing ink.
1t was my fortune once to sojourn for q
few days in tho village Of. Direct,
Iy opposite the office was a pretty, white
cottage, with rose-bush clambering around
tho easement, and | was not long in ma,
king the discovery that the aforesaid cottage
with the rose shaded window contained Il
fair inEate-a flower whose beauty out
shone the roses that clustered around the
window. She was the belle Of the village
Her namo was Mary-sweet, poetic Mary.
have a passion for the name of Mary.
It was beautiful summer morning, and
had raised the window to admit the breeze
from the flower-dccked fields, and it was
not long ere perceived the cottage window
was also hoiSted and that sweet little Mary
was sitting bnsly engaged with her needle
worked but little that mor"inc. My eyes
constantly wandered toward the cottage
where little Mary sat- and all sorts ofstrance
fantastic notions whi'led through my BRAIN
and began to think felt light touch Of
what the poets call love, sliding in at one
corner Of my heart.
few days passed away, and chance made
me acquainted with Mary. Oh she was a
creature she had form that would have
shamed the famous Venus dc Medici-a
cheek that out flushed the richest peach,
and lip that would have tempted bee
from its hive on frosty morning. I
thought as gazed on her in mute admiration
that | had never looked on one so exqus-
itely beautiful. She seemed the embodi-
ment Of everything lovely and bewitching.
We'll, time passed on, end one day Mary
expressed a desire to visit the printing office.
Good" thought I, "what chance! I'll
have a kiss there-yes, there, in the very midst
ofthe implements ofmine art-why shouldn't
l2' Love in a printing office! Oh there
was something original in that, and I re-
solved to try it at all hazards.
Well Mary came to the printing Office
and explained to her the use of various
implements Of the black art-the press the
roller, tho ink, and the stands, and the
Boxes Of the A. B. C's took an oppor-
tunity to snatch her pretty little white
hand; she drew it back, knocking a stick
full of matter into pie"
Il must have a kiss for that, my pretty
one" said I, and at it went I managed
to get my arm around her waist, and in
struggling to free herself, she upset a
galley Of editorial, a long article on the
Oregon Question
Nothing daunted, I made at her again.
This time was more successful, for I obtain
Ell kiss. BY Saint PanI, it was sweet
one, and that little witch bore it like mar
tyr she never screamed once. But n. I
raised my lips from hers, she lifted her
delicate little hand hand and gave me a
box on the ears that made see more stars
than were ever viewed by IerscheI. through
his big telescope. Somewhat nettled, and
my check smsrting with pain, again seized
her waist and said:
"Well. if you don't like It, just take back
the kiss"
She made desperate struggle, and as
she jerked herself from my arms her foot
struck the ye pot, and over it went. An
other galley Of editorial was sprinkIed over
the floor, and in her efforts to reach the
door her foot slipped and she fell. and in
her efforts 10 sustain herself her haud-her
lily-white hand-the same little hand that
came in contact with my ears-oh horri.
bic was stuck up to the elbow in ink
Shades Of Franklin! She slowly drew it
from the keg, dripping with ink, and asked
what use made of that tar. began to be
seriously alarmed, and apologized in the
best manner I could, and to my surprise she
seemed more pleased than angry but there
was lurking devil in her eye that told me
there was mischief a6oat, AS stood sur
veying the black covering of her hand,
scarcely able to suppress a laugh at the
strange metamorphosis. she quickly raised it
on high and brought it down kersIap upon
my cheek. Before could recover from sur
prised tho same little hand had again descen-
ded, and left its inky imprint on my other
cheek. "WhE,e Mary" exclaimed, what are
you aboutl'
II think you told me you rolled ink on
the face of your FORM" she replied with a
loud laugh, and again her hand lit upon
me-taking me broad slap in the middle
OF my countenance, most wonderfully be-
daubing my eyes. With light step and
merry peal Of laughter, she skipped
through the door. She turned back whe n