The weekly Ottumwa courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1857-1872, 1859-04-21
Love i'm a Printing Office.

once heard an old JON remark that
printing office was no place for love making,
and have sine experienced the trut l of
the expression; being now perfectly convin-
ced that the flower of love can never bloom
in the midst of types, cases, and printing
ink.
twas my fortune once to sojourn for
few days in the village Of -. Directly
opposite the Office was pretty, white cottage,
with a rose-bush clambering around the case
ment, and was not long in making the dis
covcry that the aforesaid cottage with the
rose-shaded window contained fair inmate
a flower whose beauty outshone the roses
that clustered around the window. she was
the belle of the village. Her name was Mary
sweet, poetic Mary. have passion for
the name of Mary.
1t was beautiful summer morning, and
l had raised the window to admit the breeze
from the flower-dccked fields, land it was 1t
long ere perceived the cottage windov was
also hoisted, and that sweet little Mary was
sitting busily engaged with her needle
worked but little that morning Nv eyes
constantly wandered towards the cottage
where little Mary sat, and all rts of frantas-
tic notions whirled through my brain, and
began to think felt light touch of what
the poets call love, sliding in at ore corner of
my heart.
A few days passed away, and chance
made me acquainted with Mary. Oh! she
was a sweet creature; she had form that
would have shamed the famous Venus de
Medical check that out flushed the richest
peach, and lip that would have tempted the
bee from its hive on frosty morning.
thought as gazed on her in mute admira-
ton, that had never looked on one so en-
quisitely beautiful. She seemed the embodi-
ment of everything lovely, bewitching. Well,
time passed on, and one day Mary expressed
desire to visit the printing office. "Good,"
thought l, "what chance I'll have a kiss
there-yes, there, in the very midst of the
implements of mine art-why shouldn't 2?
Love in printing office! Obi there was
something original in that, and resolved to
try it at all hazards.
Well, Mary came to the office, and I ex-
planned to her the use of various implements
of the black art-the dress, the roller, the
ink, and the stands, and the boxes of the
A B C's. I took an opportunity to snatch
her little white hand she drew it back,
knocking stickful of matter into "pi."
81 must have kiss for that, my pretty
one" said l, and at it went l managed
to get my arm around her waist, and in strug-
Cling to free herself, she upset gally of edi-
torial, long article on the Oregon Question
Nothing daunted, made at her again.
This time was more successful, for OBJ
tanned kiss By Saint Paul, it was a sweet
one, and that little witch bore it like mar
tyr; she never screamed once. But as I
raised my lips from hers, she lifted her deli
cate little hand and gave me box on the
ears that made me see more stars than wera
ever viewed by Herschel, through his big
telescope. Somewhat nettled, and my cheek
smarting with pain, again seized her waist,
and said:
"Well, ifyou 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 ley pot, and over it went Another gal
ley of editorial was sprinkled over the floor,
and in her effort to reach the door, her foot
slipped and she fell, and in her effort to sus-
tain herself her hand-her lily-white hand
the same little hand that came in contact
with my ear-oh horrible was stuck up
to the elbow lin 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
apolgoised in the best manner could, and to
my surprise she seemed more pleased than
angry; but there was lurking devil in her
eye that told there was mischief afioat. As
stood surveying the black covering of her
hand, scarcely able to suppress laugh at
the strange metamorphoise, she quickly rails
ed it on high and brought it dewn kerslap
upon my cheek. Before | could recover
from surprise the same little had again de-
scended, and left its inky imprint on my
other check.
"Why, Mary" exclaimed, "what are you
about?"
81 think you told me you rolled ink on the
face of the FORM" she replied with loud
laugh, and again her hand lit upon me
taking me broad slap in the middle of my
countenance, most wonderfully bedaubng
my eyes. Witha light stepand merry peal
of laughter, she skipped through the door,
She turned back when beyond my reach,
and her roguish face pecring through the
door way, shouted:
~ say, Charley, what kind of roller does
my hand maker"
"Oh," said "you take too much ink"
"Ha! hap she l,ughed, .'well, goodbye,
Charley, that's my impression"