The Indianapolis journal., 1883-06-29
OUR PUBLIC PRINTER.
The Great Work Accomplished by Him and
Derided by n Nation of Sooffers.


Derided by Nation of SOoffers.
Bill Nye in Laramie Boomerang.
Very few of the great mass of humanity
know who makes the beautiful public docu-
ment, with its plain, black binding and its
wealth of statistics. Few stop TO think that,
hidden away from the great work-a-day
world, with eyelids heavy and red, and with
hnger-naiis black with antimony, toiling on
at his case hour after hour, the public print
er during the sessions of Congress is setting
up the thrilling chapters of the Congression
al Record, and between times yanking the
Washington press backward and forward,
with his suspenders hanging down, as he
prints this beautiful seaside library of song
We are too prone to read that which gives
us pleasure without thought of the labor
necessary to its creation. We glide gaily
through the congressional record, pleased with
its more attractive features-viz., its yeas
and nays-little recking that Sterling P,
Rounds. the public printer stands in the
subdued gaslight with his stick half full try
ing to decipher the manuscript of some
reticent representative whose speech was
yesterday delivered to the janitor as he pol
ished the porcelain cuspidor of Congress.
This is day and age of the world when men
take that which comes to them and dc not
sto;' 10 investigate the pain and toll it costs.
Tney never inquire into the mystery OF man
ufacture or try to learn the details OF its
construction. Most of our libraries are re-
plete with books which we have received
at the hands of a generous government, and
yet we treat those volumes with scorn and
contumely. We jeer at the foot-sore bugol-
ogist who has chased the large green worm
from tree to tree in order that we may be
wise. We speak sneeringly of the man who
stuf1s the woodtick and paints the gaudy
wings of the squash bug that we may know
how often she CRATES.
Year after year the entomologist treads
fba Wit hatt- tiaH
to his waist, wooing to his laboratory the
army worm and the sheep scab larvae in
order that we, poor particles the surface
of the great earth, may know how these
minute creatures rise, flourish and decay
Then the public printer throws in his case,
rubs his fingers and thumb over lump of
chalk, takes chew of tobacco and puts in
type these words of wisdom from the lips OF
gray bearded sayans, that knowledge may be
scattered over the broad republic. Patiently
he goes on with the click of type, anon in an
absorbed way, while we gay, thoughtless
mortals, wear out the long summer day at
basket picnic, with deft fingers selecting
the large ant from our cold ham.
Thus these books are made which come to
us wrapped in MANILA and franked by the
man we voted for last fail. Beautiful litho-
graphs, illustrating the different stages OF
hog cholera, deck their pages. Rich oil paint
ings of gaudy tobacco worms chase each
chromos of the foot and mouth disease appeal
to us from page after page, and statistics boil
out between them, showing what percent
age OF invalid of convalescent animals was
sent abroad and what percentage was worked
into oleomargarine and pressed corn beef
And what becomes of all this wealth of in
formation-this mammoth aggregation of
costly knowledge?
Cast ruthlessly away by trifling, shallow,
frivolous and predetermined race.
1t is no more than right that Sterling P.
Rounds should know this How it will gall
his proud heart to know that his beautiful
books and his chatty and spicy Congressional
Record are treated by a jeering. heartless
throHg. Do you suppose that | would per-
spire over doubtful copy night after night
and then tread job printing press all the
next day printing books at which the blood
less soulless public sneered and the broad
browed talent of cruel generation spit
upon? Not exactly.
have moderate amount of patience and
self-control, but am free to say right here
before the world that if had been in Mr..
Roundss place, and had at a great cost
erected a scientific work upon The Rise and
Fall OF Bolts in America" and a flip
pant nation of scoffers had utilized that
volume to press autumn leaves and scrag-
gly ferns in / would rise in my proud
might and mash the forms with a mallet. |
would jerk the lever of the Washington
press into the middle of the etfugent hence.
| would Kick over my case. wipe the roller
on the frescoed wallis and feed my statistics
to the hungry flames.
No publisher has ever been treated more
stability, no compositor has, in the history
OF literature, been more rudely dlsregarded
and derided.
Think of this dear reader when you look
carelessly over the brief but wonderful
career OF the hop louse. or with apparent
ennui dawdle through the treatise on collie
among silk worms and facial neuralgia
among fowls.
This will not only please Mr. Rounds, the
young and struggling compositor, but it will
crafty and encourage all the friends of
American progress and the lovers of learn
ing throughout our whole land