Connecticut western news., 1881-04-13
AMONG THE TYPES.
A Nights Visit to the Composing
 Rooms of a Daily Paper.
BY cHAs. R. BARNARD.

a
 BY CHAs. R. BARNARD.
 The morning paper comes in fresh and damp, and while you are reading it, the men who made it for you are asleep. r,-a-.. .... .-s.... -. si
 They did their work while you were reposing on your downy couch-their life is emphatica11y one of the night. They sleep when thesun shines. They go to bed when he rises. It is all night with them Steadily click, click, click go the types, one line after an- other, paragraph follows paragraph, columns take their place beside col umns, ever lengthening, filling up the gaps, assuming form and proportion, seeking out and settling into appro- priate place, ever approaching compile tion, ever. getting ready for the reading that is to be done at so many break fast tables, on so many railways and in so many counting rooms on the az" Time "-the hour for work has come. The men go to the desk. There is little talking, that is left to the cen tral figure. Phe group consists of thirty men or n ore, and their faces are a study. Some are young, some are old,z all are earnest. Their life makes them so. They have divested them selves of coats, the most of them some have put on thin. jacket in place of the heavier out-of-door garment. The one who stands the farthest from us with a lightstraw hat tipped jauntily on the side of his head, which he now takes of-the hat, not the head-and lays on a case near by, is graduate of one of our best colleges. Don't smile, five more in,that group are graduates, one with the honors of a Yaledictorian clustering around his brow. The slen- der lad of not more than nineteen, who -stands'next to him, is collegian now, ajunior. He spends his vacations here for the sake, of the twenty five or thirty dollars week which it is sure to affo,d him. He devotes all his vacatiop] to | this work %.s s-+i --$iF 8 ef
 The man on the right, wi1 heavy l moustaehe, is "a sporting nan, regular correspondent for lTF7l1es' Spirit of tue Times. He is fond rf taking Saturday afternoon for geme of baseball. It isshis one free af6ernoon, and he, with eight others, all before us, devote il i with their night to the muscular work. e- The. central figure who now says "Nineteen," was a colonel in the army, and got that scared cheek at Gettys- burg. r-.-, '' The fierce looking Frenchman be- hind him led some of the cavalry charges that graced the hills of Vir- ginia. 7s~ ~s .GIn the corner over here, at our right, are wooden swords which he and others, who cleft the startled air with their shining blades eighteen years ago, cut and slash with now, sometimes, to keep their practice up.
 The Indian clubs near the same pile belong to the wiry man near the win dow. He is a gymnast, and has ap- peared more than once on the boards at our city theatres.
 "Nineteen."
 The Frenchman' steps up and takes from the desk sheet of straw-colored paper, looks at 1t for m moment and re- tires.
 "Twenty.''
 The man who utters the mystic word does not look up. He merely says the word and moves another sheet of paper just as he moved the first. The "student "ss takes it, glances at it and retires.
 Twenty one"
 The gymnast steps up and takes a slip, looks at it, and slight chuckle is audible. The simple expression "fat, eh p comes from some one in the group. The gymnast answers with quiet nod and smile that shows he is content with the piece of copy that fell to him.
 "Twenty-two, Tgenty-three, Twen- l ty-four, Twenty-Five, Twenty-six, Twen- -ty-seyen, Twenty. eight, Twenty nine, Thirty, One, Two, Three."
 All the numbers are quietly uttered by the central figure, but his eyes are I rarely raised. a
 The whole thing on his part is me. l. chanicai. The men receive their sstakes' and pass on. When they are all gone hes leans his head on his hands, ani