Litchfield enquirer., 1855-11-22
Wonderful decorations there are upon the

Wonderful decorations there are upon IN,
: walls; what marvellous borders to the ha nd
bills; what wonderful "Selims," that IN,
man with short coat and long whip coule
hardly hold; what "great sales," of small
articles, what gay coaches. riding on the tor
of a cloud. the fourth hand all running
away, and the nine inside all merry az
Punch.
But not picture Of railroad, or a steam
boat. A strange old Office in those old days.
But there in the further corner stands a
square frame Of heavy timber, like a huge
loom, such as they wove thought on it is
the old 'Ramage Press" It's huge lever, its
lazy platen, its ponderous tympan. its srea,
Ink balls. its c,eaking groaning mechanism
there 1t stands in all its rudeness. the great
triumph Of this or any other age. A pair of
tin sockets swung by wire above the dingy
engine, bearing each '.bref CANDLE" were
the Castor and the Pollux of the place. In
| the corner, in the dark, stood solitary key
of ink; not very great ways off four reams
Of very greyish blue paper. but then the
proprietor was ''passing Iich" a, less than
forty pounds year. 1t is publication day,
and editor. pale apprentice and dingy, are
In an active state Of unrest. The editor
writes and says "we," and sour readers"
he has two hundred and ffty-and then
the printer sets type, and then the publisher
looks over the form. and then the pressman
places 1t on the press, and ''ihen comes tine
tug OF war" 1t is poll and repeat, pull
again and again repeat, and then the :. in
side comes of, sheet after sheet, with the
gravity OF so many elephants the candles
get brieter and DINNER. but the two hum
bred and fitch is of at last and they all +,
editor, publisher printer and pressman get
into the same coat and beneath the same hat
and leave the devil TO fold up the papers,
and sweep out the Office.
Where then were your compound lever s,
your giittering cylinders, your faithful
rollers, your painting furnaces, your press,
instinct with life and energy, that Jared on
| like chariot over whole highways Of
white paper in an hourt Where are the
busy "jours." and the editorial corps -
Where the steamer and the railway trains
and the ttlesraphs, painting and shrieking
| and flashing, TO transmit that papers con-
tents to the sorj's dim. cloudy ends!
The morning comes and The inky imp Of
yesterday INDUCES in clean face his un-
kempt locks are out Of snarl he is trans.
formed into Mercury. Forth he goes,
, packages of papers beneath eacl, arm in
his capacity of carrier.boy. He is none Of
your brisk. pert fellows OF the nowadays
order, but very meek is he indeed; and
when the squire speaks to him strong and
hearty "sood morning my boy" he holds
down his head and deposits the answer
! in his bosom, as if it were very delicate
thing, aud not yet able to fly. Like death,
he visits every house, and his burden grows
lighter as he proceeds. He does not chucA
the papers as they do now, over the gate
and under the fence. but decenily and de-
murely places it folded and damp in the
hand. of somebody commissioned TO receive
it. But he doesn't ring for there 10 nothing
to ring in all the town except the church
bell that the doctor brought home in his
cutter" enc day from Utica or somewhere
there-away.
| His rounds are soon made meanwhile,
sorry sort Of horse-an editors horse, you
KNOWS blowing solitary oat about a
very large manger, the very last survivor Of
a very large family. Pretty soon Rosina,e
is led forth, and pair of saddIe-bags, dis
tended to the sufiocating point. is brought
out followed by the mercury and no devil,
| VIII MS pocket Piehoflc WIN oougn.nutS,
what has become Of that old fashioned
twisted luxury land tin horn tethered
to a but,on-hole. by a bi, of green string.
II is with a sort Of sheepish importance
that he mounts by the aid Of the proprietor,
and wends his way, as they are very tond
of saying, out in the country" as il the
old village was not positively lost in the
very bosom Of it.
And So he went, his horn resounding
through the solitudes, and he as happy as
knIgh fresh from tournament. And that
was the IN s. T.. w." the Nems Of
those old days, But what there was in
The Gazette. and who they were that read
it, must be passed over in the silence like
that, which now alas /! hangs like great
wing over the mos, of them-the fairest,
and ioveliest, and best.