The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1884-06-18
The Printers Home.
Burlington Hawkere.l

Burlington Hawkeye.
There was wife and there was boy.
Long before any one now in the once
had sit in news-room, press room, busl-
ness Office or sanetum, and before the old
man had begun to look out at the
world through spectacles and hls
| figure was straight as 1t was tail, the
typos and reporters used to hear great
deal of talk about buying a lot and
building a house out upon the ALL,
where he could have patch of garden.
And by and by he was going to quit
sticking type and get into something
that would let him stay home nights and
let him get acquainted with his family.
And the suit of clothes he bought In the
fall lasted long way in the next sum
mer, and then they came out again IN
the winter, and the old man rushed
more than he ever did again while
the dream Of home was inspiring him.
It is an old story, this struggle OF a prln-
ter to get home; any one OF these rest
less mariners of the land drifting from
port to port and back again, lured by
the ignis fatuis of so many cents more
thousand and a price-and-a-half after 2
o'clock, and big bills with four or flye
nights work. Never a wandering jour
printer got chance to stand at the old
mans case while he was saving money
for house and lot, and the subs looked
at him with the despairiDg glances OF
starvation. But it is hard, uphill work
for printer to buy home. his pay
is easily reduced and hardly raised;
long strike means the road for him, and
if he has family and can't tramp he
breaks his heart, puts dust on his head
and goes out of the Union and wearily
works at the bosses rates. so the old
man worked brayely on, as many prln-
ter has worked before and since his time,
and the little plant in the bank began to
grow brighter as the old clothes grew
shabbier.
And the boy, growing into his tenth
year, used to be seen in the oHlee after
school, standing at his tall fathers ell
bow; learning, in very irregular, boy
ish. unapprenticed fashion, with cat
aract of questions, to stick type. The
old man never intended the boy should
be printer. And he was SO proud OF
him and his standing at school, and once
the boy wrote 10-line account of boy
falling down stairs, that good natured
reporter sent it in just as it came, al
though it was dull day, and the scribe
wanted awfully to make column and
put on a hanging head. And the old
man sent marked copies OF that paper
To every soul he knew in this world.
But one day an unbidden guest came
home from school with the boy, and sat
down by the hearthstone i'll The old mans
rented home. And the long days OF
fever and doctors bills drew out nearly
all that little home bank account, aud
one black day the old mans case was
empty. and the business Office told the
undertaken that all his bills would be
paid there, and he mustn't take any
money from the old man. And, pale
and quiet and sad, looking old and worn,
was the printer who came next day and
took his old place at the case. The
types didn't click very fast in that alley
for days after that And sometimes the
printers face would be lying on the
boxes in his folded arms, and how pa
thetic looked the half-filled stick in the
clasped hands, the composing rule fallen
out of its place, and the pied type and
leads all tumbling together. More than
one printer. going by on his way to
empty his stick in the galley, was long
time bending down to find the take his
one followed; and more than one, look
ing across at the heart-broken picture
of sorrow, leaned close down to his copy,
to read fair writing that was never
blurred when it came off the hook, and
grimed his eyes with an unsteady hand,
saving something about the dust or the
glare Of the light. And then, about i've
years after that, the boys mother, weary
of the long pilgrimage, lay down to rest
/ in a cool arbor, rooted with waving
grasses and blue violets, and awoke to
! kiss her boy.