In one great
newspaper-office ten machines are all set going together, and an
eleventh is kept ready in case of accident. The ten whizzing cylinders
print off the papers, and an impression of a quarter of a million is
soon thrown out, folded, and piled ready for distribution. But imagine
what a loss of one minute means! Truly the agitation of the officials
at an awkward pinch is singularly excusable, and many a hard word is
levelled at pertinacious talkers who insist on thrusting themselves
upon the House at a time when the country is waiting with wild
eagerness for momentous tidings. The long line of carts waits in the
street, the speedy ponies rattle off, and soon the immense building is
all but still. Comfortable people who have their journal punctually
handed in at a convenient hour in the morning are apt to think lightly
of the raging effort, the inconceivably complicated organisation, the
colossal expense needed to produce that sheet which is flung away at
the close of each day. A blunder of the most trivial kind might throw
everything out of gear; but stern discipline and ubiquitous precaution
render the blunder almost an impossibility.
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