Year: 1861

Do you know the type setter is an ar


chitcct? You see those bits of lead and


zinc lying over, across and against each
other, like the tangled braids of a mer.
maids hair? And yet they form an ar.
my more powerful ever fought on tented


field. Yesterday they stood up "form"-
truly, in a thousand forms you may look
upon the little bits with smile on your
lip, but you little dream they are stronger
and wiser than you-they will speak when
you are dead and forgotten. They have
sometimes made you smile, and sometimes
shudder. "Stocls !" Isn't there some
thing in that word Havnt you been
head and heels in them for years, and
don't your feelings rise and fall with them
alternately A little further on you come
to the "Marricd" All 1 thought that
would make you smile. l saw you kiss
baby then and that word unravcls it ALL
You havn't forgot the day you went cour-
ting have you? Then there was magic in
the uttcrancc. You stood at the alter on
the strength of the happiness you felt, and
if you have not always loved the girl as
you ought to, there is no one you love as
we'll You secretly bless the day when
the single word "Narried" was wreathcd
like sacred archway over the joys of you
and yours. Don't you remember little
Minnie-sho whom you loved SO we'll
she with the blue eyes and auburn curls
When Deaths dark Angel folded her little
delicate hands over her snowy bosom, and
sealed her loving eyes with its icy fingers,
don't you remember how the great tide of
sorrow came surging Ger your smttcn
heart? You little thought the other day
when you picked up the papers-that the
word "Died," of only four lcttcrs-which
you laughed at as they lay dusty and dir.
ty in their square homes-would make
you wcep-would make you think of her
whom God hath taken.


If you come to his Office tomorrow the
printer will show you how to distribute
knowledge. He will pull to pieces tough,
wiry arguments that yesterday delied the
world. Those pretty palaces which the
poet wrought will have to come down, and
their golden fancics become to morrow the
integumcnts of the politicians prose. In
they go-thoso metallic dwarfs, scattered
broadcast like good seed, which shall bring
forth Sixty, aye an hundred fold. "Six-
ty lives lost and Prentice S last joke march
in together, and the printer whistles Yam
kee Doodle as if human life was below par,
and so it is. This is the printers life and
business.


y Printing Office is great bowling al
Icy. The printer sets up pins-the world
keeps talley, the editor puts the ball in
motion, and away it goes, carrying death
and destruction in its front, sending pin
here and pin there, while noisy rabble
always stand by to cheer and hiss down
the players Some play for money and
a few--a precious fow-do it to patronize
the boss and bless mankind. No matter
what the balls are made of or how they 20
if they only hit the mark. The crowd
pocket the spoils and the honors arc left to
the proprietor, who goes behind the scenes
and staryes in his shirt sleeves. And such
is life.


When the printer dies, the world just
gets glimpse of his value as his coat-tail
vanishes into glory, and then it looks very
bad, rubs its head little calls him a clev.
er fcllow--says only fault was in being
poor, and then the world shoves his SYM
pathy out of sight into that idiom tho hu-
man heart, and on rolls the Juggcrnaut as
though nothing had happened.


Some day the people will wake up and
find a screw loose in the jagged machine
of human progress. If you do, don't waste
more sympathy than possible on those my
biological fellows who print your books and
papers.