As Gutenberg went on setting up _bonus_ in type, he found an obstacle in keeping the letters together, so that he could rub ink on them and print. Evening came, and he took them home to remedy the difficulty, and notched the edges of the two outside letters, the _b_, and the _s_, that he might tie them firmly with the linen thread he had provided. This fastening them together, that they might bear the impression of the solid block, was also a study; but he was not to be turned aside by obstacles. He had energy, courage, perseverance, and ingenuity; for Providence was inspiring him for his work. [Illustration] [Illustration] IX. Anna’s Disappointment.--Dritzhn’s Regrets.--Comfort for Anna.-- Gutenberg’s Progress described.--The Great Enlightener.-- Advantages of Movable Type.--Another Book.--Obstacles.-- Criticisms.--Invention.--A Press contrived.--New Cause of Disquiet. As for Anna, usually so hopeful, she was much disquieted when her husband told her that block-printing was only suited to small books, and that some other method must be sought out, or he could not issue large works. She had her heart on retrieving their affairs by the sale of books, and was bitterly disappointed that the new art could not at once, if ever, bring the hoped for prosperity. Dritzhn’s life was embittered with vain regrets; each hour of the day was vocal with his murmurs and forebodings. Under these circumstances, Gutenberg did not feel free to take his rightful share of the small profits, and, in consequence, the allowance for family expenses was not sufficient to furnish his home with comforts and keep Want, the gaunt wolf, away. And so it came about that one day Anna sat sewing in her dwelling, the picture of grief, and bitterly reproaching herself for the advice she had given her husband to turn aside from the sure returns of the artisan to the uncertainties of invention. The garment she was making fell from her hands, and she exclaimed,-- “Alas! I am the foolish woman that plucketh her house down with her hands! I had not the wisdom to give my husband good counsel!” Thus she bewailed herself with bitter tears and reproaches till evening, when, hearing Gutenberg’s step as he returned from St. Arbogast, she quickly wiped away her tears, and strove to meet him with composure. “Why, Anna!” he cried, as he beheld her woe-begone face, “art thou ill? Are our friends dead? Speak, and tell me!” And as she revealed the source of her disquiet, he said cheerily,-- “My Anna, thou must take a juster view of things. Brighter days are in store for us. Thou dost not know what I have discovered!” “But I know too well what _I_ have discovered,” she rejoined; “it is that we are beggars. There is no food in the house, and I can go no more to the provision merchants until they are paid. It is dreadful to think how we have spent our money!” To such an extremity of speech was poor Anna brought in her trial.