How Marie Played a Romantic Trick on Her Lover and Brought Him to Time.

Here's a young girl of romantic temperament who yet would not sit like Patience on a monument smiling at grief or pine in a green and yellow melancholy until her lover made up his mind to declare his ear­nest Intentions. Oh, no; she was one of your right sort who didn't believe in picking a rose to pieces leaf by leaf in a garden while interrogating blind luck whether he loved her or loved her not. She was a New Orleans girl and her name was Marie Ravineau. He was a house painter and a good hearted fellow with everything admirable about him except that he would not talk right out. His name was Henry L. Jackson.

Well, On the 29th ult.. Henry was sitting on a swinging scaffold made by a horizontally placed ladder hung from the roof by ropes attached to either end. He was painting the front of a four story house. Marie went me up to that roof, swing herself down the rope to the ladder and with a knife began to hack at the ropes.

"Does he love me?" said she, "Oh, say you do."           

But Henry didn't cackle worth a cent. Then she cut a strand of the rope, saying, "He loves Me," then another strand, “He loves me not,” and thus alternating her assertions until there remained but one little strand. Then the painter eagerly protested his love and she fell in his arms. The last strand broke and the pair clutching the rounds of the now vertical ladder were suspended in mid-air ten minutes before they could be rescued.

The painter’s mind seems quite unbalanced by the shock but Marie vows they shall not commit him to the lunatic asylum until she is married. That’s what she started out to do and she’s going to accomplish it. That’s a woman that trifles will not throw off, you bet.

Pay-day at the mines in the vicinity of Robinson, Col., is always followed by a night of boisterous merriment. Last Saturday was no Exception to the rule, and a gang of the "boys," headed by Ed. Dolin, Jimmy Higgins, John Tye, Jerry Ryan and others got hold of a Jack mule or burro. Ed Dolan mounted the beast, and with his feet touching the ground, headed the procession. The others urged the animal along by pounding its buttocks with boards and cudgels. The gang made for a dance hall kept by two women named Jennie Stone and Nellie Williams alias "Buffalo Nell." Dolan rode astride the ass, made a charge on the bar, and presenting two cocked poppers, persuaded Buffalo Nell to set up San Juan cock tails for the crowd. About the time the gang were soaked, policeman Andy Purvin appeared on the scene, and a general stampede was made for the door. Boss Dolan and the ass went over a high side walk into a bank of snow, and it was only after a good deal of tumbling and much hard talk praying that they were placed on a solid footing again.

The National Police Gazette, December 3, 1881.