"DARLING BESSIE," said Mr. Hoover to his lady typewriter, "will you marry me? Since you have come, like a gleam of sunshine to gladden my existence, I have lived in the radiant light of your ethereal presence, and passionately" — "Please speak a little slower, Mr. Hoover," said the fair typewriter, interrupting him while her fingers continued to fly over the keys of the machine. "Ethereal presence—passionately. Now I am ready to proceed."— "Great Scott, Miss Caramel!" exclaimed her employer, "you are not taking down my offer of marriage on that infernal typewriter, are you?" — "A proposal!" shrieked Miss Caramel. "Why, so it is! I didn't notice. I thought you were dictating. Forgive me, dear William, I am yours. And now since I have made this foolish blunder, please sign this paper, and I will keep it as a memento." The marriage took place according to contract.
Friday, 28 January 2011
I Love My Typewriter
A lovely vignette from 1889:-
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Those were the days! Then, the word "typewriter" referred to the person operating the machine and not the machine itself. Maybe today we consider the machine more significant than its operator?
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