Year: 1866

printing Office was no place for love making,
and | have since experienced the truth OF
the expression; being now perfectly convlnc-
ed 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 a
few days in the village Of -. Directly
opposite the Office was pretty, white cot
tage, with rose bush clambering around
the easement, and | was not long in making
the discovery that the aforesaid cottage with
the rose shaded window contained fair in
mate-a flower whose beauty outshone the
roses that clustered around the window She
was the belle of the whole village. Her
name was Mary / have passion for the
name of Mary.


1t was beautiful summer morning, and |
had raised the window to admit the breeze
from the flower decked fields; and it was not
long ere | perceived the cottage window was
also hoisted and the sweet little Mary was
sitting busily engaged with her needle. /
worked but little that morning. My eyes
constantly wandered toward the cottage
where little Mary sat, and all sorts of strange
fantastical notions whirled through my brain,
and began to think | felt slight touch Of
what the poets call love, sliding in at one
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 de Medici-a cheek
that Outfiushed the richest peach and lips
that would have tempted bee from his hive
on frosty morning. thought as | gazed
on her in mute admiration, that had never
looked on one so exquisitely beautiful. She
seemed the embodiment Of everything lovely
and bewitching. Well, time passed on, and
one day Mary expressed desire to visit the
printing Office. Good, thought /, what
chance! III have a kiss there-yes, there,
In the very midst of the implements of mine
art-why shouldn't IY' Love in printing
ofhcel OH there was something original
In that, and | resolved to try it at all haz-
ards.


We'll, Mary came into the Office, and / ex-
planned to her the use of the various imple-
ment Of the black art-the press, the roller,
the ink and the stands, and the boxes Of 4,
b, Cs. While she was looking at these mys-
terles L took an opportunity to snatch her
little white hand; she drew it back and
knocked a stickful of matter into ''pi -


Il must have kiss for that, my pretty
one, said L, and at it | went. | managed
to get my arm around her waist, and in strug-
Cling to free herself, she upset galley of
editorial-a long article on Negro Suffrage.


Nothing daunted [ made at her again.
This time / was more successful for | OBJ
tanned the kiss. By Saint Paul, it was
sweet one, and that little witch bore 1t
a like martyr; she never screamed once
But as | raised my lips from hers, she lifted
her delicate little hand and gave me box
on the ears that made me see more stars
than were ever viewed by Herschel in his
telescope. Somewhat nettled, and my cheek
smarting with pain, L seized her about the
waist and said:


We'll, if you don't like it, just take back
that kiss.


She made desperate struggle to get
away, and, as she ierked herself from my
arms, her foot struck the lye pot, and over
it went Another galley of editorial was
sprinkled over the floor, and in her efforts TO
reach the door, her foot slipped and she fell.
In her efforts to sustain herself, her hand
her lily white hand-the same little hand
that came in contact with my ears-ohl hor-
rible was up to the elbow In ink Shades
# 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
| could, and to my surprise she seemed more
pleased than angry; but there was lurking
devil in her eye that told me mischief was
ahoat As | stood, surveying the black COW
ering of her hand, scarcely able to suppress
a laugh at the strange metamorphoSis, she
quickly raised 1t on high and brought it
down upon my cheek. Before / could re-
cover from my surprise the same tiny hand
had again descended, and left its inky i'm
print upon my other cheek


Why, Mary l exclaimed, what are
You about p


Il think you told me you rolled ink on the
face of the form, she replied with loud
laugh, and again her little hand lit upon me
taking me broad slap in the middle of
my countenance. most wonderfully bedaub-
ing my eyes. With light step and merry
peal of laughter, she skipped through the
door. She turned back when beyond my
reach, and her roguish face peering through
the door, shouted:


Il say, Charlie. what kind of roller does
my hand make?''


'"Oh." said I. ''you take too much ink


''Ha! hal she laughed, well, good, bye
Charlie, that's my impression.


/ went to the glass and surveyed myself
for a moment, and | verify believe that |
could have passed for Guinea niger, with
out the slightest difficulty. And so, said
| to myself, this is love in printing office.
The devil fly away with such love. =


The next morning, when the editor came
to the office, L rather calculate he found
things little topsy turvey. However, that
made no difference to me, for | mizzled be-
fore daylight. / bore the marks of that
scene many day, and now when | see a
lady entering a printing Office, | think of
little Mary and keep my eye on the ink keg.


A Two LEGGED LAME. correspondent
at Westfeld writes us, under date of April