Mad: A Story of Dust and AshesFenn, George Manville
General
Mad: A Story of Dust and Ashes
Fenn, George Manville
Fiction
In a few more minutes he was hard at his task, picking up letter by
letter the component parts of the words spoken the day before at a
public meeting, where an orator discoursed at length upon the financial
greatness of this our country; after which he dived into statistics, so
that the old compositor was soon realising the facts, and revelling in
sums of money eight figures in length, and that, too, without a single
penny in his pocket.
Click, click; click, click; letter after letter passing into the metal
composing-sticks; thirty men busily engaged, and not a word spoken
beyond the occasional muttering whisper of the worker, who sought to
impress his MS more fully upon his mind by reading it aloud; while old
Matt, poring over his copy by the aid of a pair of horn spectacles, now
and then paused for a stimulator from the snuff loose by accident in his
coat-pocket hanging from a nail in the wall--snuff that had to be hunted
into corners and brought forth in pinches, the greater proportion of
which consisted of flue and crumbs.
"Pound, nine, comma; eight, four, three, comma; six, four, two,"
muttered the old man, arranging the figures. "Ah, bless my soul! now,
what could I do with nine--nearly ten millions of money? And that sum's
nothing at all. Poverty? Pooh! all humbug! There isn't such a thing;
it's all a mistake. Somebody's got more than his share, and made things
crooked."
Old Matt finished his task, and, on applying to the overseer for a fresh
supply, he was set to correct a slip proof, when, taking the long column
of type from which it had been printed, the old man was soon busy at
work once more, correcting a misspelt word in this paragraph, removing a
broken letter in that, and all the while muttering to himself, to the
great amusement of the other men. But all at once he stopped short and
stared at his work, looked eagerly round the office, as if to assure
himself that all was real, and then devoured the words before him. Then
he went on with his work in a flurried, nervous way, dropping words,
misplacing letters, scattering type upon the floor, and making his
fellow-workmen look up with wonder--attentions that made the old man
more nervous and fidgety; until, as his nervousness increased, so did
his task become more difficult of completion, the perspiration standing
upon his forehead, and the expression of his face growing pitiful in the
extreme.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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