The Dillon herald. [volume] (Dillon, S.C.) 1894-????, 1911-04-27
DILLON, -. G., APRIL -, lSll.
THE EDITOR AND HIS OLD FONT
Colonel Roby g. Stones Farewell
to His Beloved Type.


to His Beloved Type.
Reproduced in the century num-
Der of the Plattsburg Republican
Tom its issue OF Jan Z, 1871.
We have to-day put off our old
type-type that has been in this Of
flee, some of it, for more than
twenty years, 1t is like parting
with an old friend, and we cannot
let it go out of our sight without
passing farewell. And so we say
farewell, old type. We have sum-
mered and wintered with you for
many long years. We have sat up
nights with you, and beheld your
impassiye faces At early morning
Increasingly you have done your
duty, A thousand times you have
clicked in the compositor's stick,
and a thousand varied expressions
have you given utterance TO. You
have been bound TO the galley, and
visited the sanctum in proof You
have received reproof and been dis
charged to speak your mind the mex
day to public ever anxious for
the news. and never done finding
fault with the types. You have
sounded every note OF human pas
!, lion aid attIfe2 every tone OF hu-
man feeling. You have impaired
news from far countries, and hur-
riedly picked up the events that
were within sight of your own
cases. You have embodied jestS
and jokes that have caused the
sides to crack with laughter. and
you have spoken sentiment that has
0pen1d vice the fountain of tears
into how many weather articles you
nave entered. What vast eggs, the
last IaNG'' nnrValnnG hnnInn,
you have announced. How have
your eyes been open 10 the chang
ing evidences CT the season, and
now have your ears pricked up to
catch the first rumOr of exclusive
intelligence. and how gleefully have
you laughed that no other paper
has the news" Ofttimes have you
been ''gratifieG to learn" and as
often regretted to announce" that
this or that astonishing event has
occurred. How many courteous
and gentlemanly" friends have you ,
not met. and how you have glori- .
tied matters that have seemed to
leTord you Il few hours or even
Hnontes of pleasure.
'e's Ii. ''old type" your day is past. /
- LOU are. heaped up in in
.NTEEIs confusion, in the type box,
waiting Cor y bid upon your useless
bones. We viii not write hic jacet ,
he lies"-upon your re-
mains, for we can pardon now all !
your errors and mistakes. and they !
have not been numerous Your day ,
Is past for the present. Just now, !
brewer. bourgeoise, minion. leads, /.
cuts and all, heretofore separated !
by stern column rules of brass, are
hustled together in one indistin-
guishable pi. But you shall go to
the type foundry and be melted
and shall reappear i'll new and
beautiful form. A resurrection
shall come upon you. You shall
pass through the fiery furnace and
come forth with life renew
sd aad ready for action in another
sphere. Perhaps you shall turn
upon your old friends, and in the
hands of other compositors shall
hurl back hate and difiance upon
us. You have been in this life con-
servatiye. In the next you may be
radical.
:. We cannot nope TO follow you
through all your future transforma-
tions, as wonderful as the metem-
psychosis of old philosophy. But
don't forget the friendly compost
tors who have kindly picked you
up from the case and arranged you
for the paper, nor the prootreader
who has corrected your innocent
errors and set right your turned
letters with his cabala Of mystic
signs. Don't forget the old press
that has jerked you back and for
ward in the form and rolled its ink
over your unwilling faces and then
wiped you dry with its broad white
sheet. Goodbye, old type!