The dollar weekly bulletin. [volume] (Maysville, Ky.) 1862-1864, 1862-07-03

Boston agin Jest take me by the slack and
throw me right into that 'ere biler, boots ant
abby gravy
A WONDERFUL ARCHITECT.
! Do you know the type setter is a archi-
tect ? You see those bits of lead and zinc
lying over, across and against each other
like the tangled braids of mermaid's hair!
And yet they form army more powerful
ever fought on tented field. Yesterday
they stood up "form"-truly, in thousand
forms. You may look upon the little bits
with smile on your lip. but you little
dream they are stronger and wiser han you
they will speak when you are dead and
forgotten. They have ometimes made
you smile, and sometimes shudder.-
"Stocks!" Isn't there something in that
word? Have MT you been head and heels
in them for years. aud don't your feelings
rise and fall with them alternately? lit
tie further on you come to the an Marred. 5"
All! thought that wonld make you smile =.
| saw you kiss baby then, and that word
unraveled it all. You havn't forgotten the
day you went courting, have you? Then
there was magic in the utterance. You
stood at the altar on the strength of the
happiness you felt, and if you have not al
ways loved the girl as you ought to, there is
no one you love as well. You secretly
bless the day when the single word MAR
ried" was wreathed like a sacred archway
over the joys of you and yours. Don't you
remember little Minnie-sbe whom you
loved so well-she with the blue eyes and
auburn curls? When Deaths dark Angel
folded her little delicate hands over her
snowy bosom, and sealed her loving eyes
with its icy fingers, don't you remember how
h,, nt Ia If n,
your smtten heart? You little thought
the other day when you pick ed up the pa
pers-that the word Died. of only four
letters-which you laughed at as they lay
dusty and dirty in their square homes
would make you weep-would make you
think Of her whom God hath taken.
If you come to his office Tomorrow the
printer will show YOU how to distribute
He will pull to pieces tough,
wiry arguments that yesterday dehed the
world. Those pretty palaces which the
poet wrought will have to come down, and
their golden fancics become to -mor the
nteguments of the politicians prose. In
hey go-those metallic dwarfs, scattered
broadcast like good seed, which shall bring
orth sixty, aye am hundred fold Sixty
ives lost" and Prentice's last joke march in
oSether, and the printer whistles y w." Z
. ooIIo 90 vareIessiv as If human lie was
below par and so it is. This is the prin-
er's life and business.
A Printing Office is great bow ling alley.
The printer sets up pns-the world keeps /
alley the editor puts the ball in motion,
md away it goes. carrying death and des- /
ruction in its front, sending Il pin here and .
pin there, while a noisy rabbe always 7
tand by to cheer and hiss down the play
RS. Some play for money; and few-a .
precious few-do it to patronize the boss
nd bless mankind. No matter what the
,alls made of or how they go, if they
nly hit the mark The crowd pocket the
polls and the bonors are left to the pro-
,rietor, who goes behind tho scenes and
.arve in his shirt sleeves. Aad such is
ife.
When the printer dies, the world just
cts a glimpse Of his value as his coat
anish into glory. and then it looks very
ad rubs its head little, calls him a clever
only fault was in being poor,
nd then the world shoves his sympathy
ut of sight into that idiom the human
cart, and on rolls the Juggernaut as
hough nothing had happened.
Some day the people will wake up and
nd screw lost in the jagged machine of
umau progress. 1t you do, don't waste
lore sympathy than possible on those my
theological fellows who print your books
nd papers.