Edwards, it is said, arrived in Oak Park on Tuesday, and after a
whirlwind courtship this "Lochinvar who came out of the West" had won
the whole matrimonial agency.
"Marie," the name in which all her extensive advertising was done,
has defeated the officials of Chicago, Oak Park, and even the United
States postoffice inspector, in every effort they made to suppress her
enterprise.
To Postmaster Hutchinson she wrote requesting that all letters
addressed to the agency be returned to the writers, as she didn't
"want any more of their money." The postoffice force was burdened with
the task of mailing back to some 500 lovelorn men and maidens the
letters which had accumulated in "Marie's" postoffice box.
But the bleatings of the overgrown calf from Utah, and the wails of
the maiden lady who desires a "flower" for a mate are both eclipsed by
the mushy outpourings of a Chicago business man.
This fellow evidently possesses the artistic temperament. Not only
is he moved to write prose poetry, "to bay the moon of love," but he
insists on inserting illustrative sketches of an ardent wooing.
He has forged the white heat of his passion, which evidently puts Ella
Wheeler Wilcox at her fiercest to shame, into pictures. Here we behold
him, hand in hand with his beloved, under the kindly stars. There,
more prosaic, it is true, but still quite passionate, is the drawing
room scene, with the lady seated on his knee. Behold the works of
genius when love impels.