The weekly mountain Democrat. [volume] (Placerville, El Dorado County, Calif.) 1861-1862, 1861-07-27
a Wondsrful Architect.

Do you know the type. setter is won
derful architect? You see those bits ol
lead and zinc lying over across and against
each other, like the tangled braids Of q
mermaid's hairi And yet they form an
army more powerful than ever fought on
tented field. Yesterday they stood up
proudly, professionally speaking, in one
" form"-truly in q thousand forms. You
may look upon the little bits with smile
on your lip, but you little dream they arc
stronger and wiser than yOu-that they
will speak when you are dead and forgot
ten. They have sometimes made you
smile, and sometimes shu,ldcr. "StOcks!'
Isn't there something in that wOrdy-
IIavn't you been head and heels In them
for years. and don't your feelings rise and
fall with them alternately? A little fur
ther on you come to the word Married.
Ahl | thought that would make you
smile. saw you kiss baby then, and
that word unravels 1t all. You havn't
forgot the day when you went courting,
have you? Then there was magic in the
uttcrancc. You stood at the altar on the
strength of the happiness you felt, and il
you have not loved the girl as you ought
to, there is no one you love as well. You
secretly bless the day when the single
word married" was wreathed like Se-
cret archway over the joy Of you and yours.
Don't you remember little Minnie-ShC
whom you loved so well-she with the
blue eyes and auburn curlsi When
Deaths dark Angel folded her little deli.
cate hands over her snowy bosom, and
sealed her loving eyes with its icy fingers,
don't you remember how the great tide
Of sorrow came Surging DER your smitten
heart? You little thought the other day
when you picked up the papers-that
word Died." Of only four letters which
you laughed at as they lay dusty and
dirty in their square homes-wOuld make
you think Of her whom God had taken.
II you come to his Office tomorrow
the printer will show you how TO distrib-
ute knowledge. lie will pull to pieces
tough, wiry arguments that yesterday
deticd the world. Those pretty palaces
which the poet wrought, will have to
come down, and their golden fancies be-
conc tomorrow the integuments Of pol
itician's prose. In they go-thOse met.
alic dwarfs, scattered broadcast like good
seed, which shall bring forth sixty, aye,
a hundred fold. "Sixty lives lost" and
Prentice's last joke, march in together,
and the printer whistles Yankee Doodle
as carelcssly ~ If human life was below
par, and so it is. This is the printers
life and business.
A printing Office Is great bowling
alley. The printer sets up pins-the
world keeps tally, the editor puts the ball
in motion, and away It goes, carry ing
death and destruction in its front, send.
ing q pin there, while noisy rabblc al.
ways stand by to cheer and hiss down the
players. Some play for money; and o
fcw-a precious few-do It to patr0nize
the boss and bless mankind. No matter
what tho balls are made Of, or how they
60, il they only hit the mark. The crowd
pocket the sp0ils and the honors are lcfl
to the proprietor, who goes behind the
scenes and starves in his shirt-sleeves.
And such Is life.
When the printer dies, the world just
gets glimpse of his value as his coat tails
vanish into glory, and then it looks very
had, rubs its head a little, calls him a
clever felbw-says his only fault was in
being poor, and then the world shoves his
sympathy out Of sight into that OdiOm,
the human heart, and on rolls the Jugger'
naut as though nothing had happened.
Some day the people will wake up and
find screw lost in the jagged machine
Of human progress. II you do, dom
waste more sympathy than possible or
those NEUROLOGICAL fellows who print YOU
books and papers.