“You go in there and roll that press,” said the foreman. It seems the regular “devil” had had an altercation with the foreman and left, and one of the journeyman printers was rolling a handbill, while a man outside with his sulky and horse was waiting for it, and that poster I can always recall. It was a rude cut of a stallion, with black letter announcements relating thereto. That beautiful clean white paper and the glossy black ink startled me. I never got over it. I have been using black ink and white paper ever since. To make a long story short, I was behind that press and covered with printers’ ink in a very few minutes. After the handbill was printed, the foreman lifted the form, called me to his side of the press, and said: “Take this form to that sink and wash it.” I started, and right in front of the sink it seems a little of the lye had accumulated and the floor was slippery. I slipped and down I went. The chase went over my head and the type flew in all directions. The foreman said: “There! by thunder, you leave!” The editor stepped out of the sanctum and said, “What’s the matter?” “He’s pied that form,” replied the foreman. “Did you show him how to wash it?” asked the editor. “He leaves, or I do,” said the foreman. “You can leave if you want,” said the editor. Probably the reader can imagine my feelings at having such a friend to take my part. So the foreman left, and I did the best I could, picking up the type until it was about time to quit, when the editor told me to come with him to his house. I went there and looked in; at first I did not dare enter. There was the first upholstered furniture I had ever seen, a white tablecloth, glass tumblers and napkins--such things I had never seen. There were figures on the carpet. Two beautifully dressed ladies came downstairs and took seats at the table directly opposite me. I must have turned crimson. I was completely dazed by their beauty and so embarrassed I must have betrayed my feelings. I was glad my feet were under the table, for I was barefooted. I went through some motions, but ate no supper. Next morning I was to be at the office, open it, and have it swept by seven o’clock. I had the key in my pocket and it fairly burned there, so anxious was I to be at my new work and to turn that key in the lock. I was at the office before six to sweep it out. I hunted around and found a broom and began sweeping everything toward the door. I swept the sanctum, a corner partitioned off from the main room, of the printing office. I dared not pick up the loose exchanges lying on the floor, but swept around them, and had almost a winrow of dirt moved up to the door, amid clouds of dust, when Walker Rouse, the elder apprentice, came in and exclaimed: “Whew, what a dust! Why, you haven’t sprinkled before sweeping!”