in the straw, entered the premises engaged
at Meerut. A gentle voice, the voice of
one who was the companion of my serious
but amusing difficulties, whispered in my
ear," It was thus Napoleon conveyed his
ordnance to the field of Marengo." The
carts had been upset several times upon the
road, for the excited " devils" had insisted
on driving the bullocks—but fortunately no
damage had been done to the machinery.
The box in which the long primer was
packed in Calcutta had started a plank, and
a vast number of letters had leaked out;
"capital H upper case " was very imperfect;
and unfortunately it was a letter which
would be in great demand inasmuch as
Lord Hardinge was the governor-general. As
the printer very truly remarked, in handing
me a proof, "If his name had been Ardinge,
it would have been all right, sir."

The first number of the paper was to come
out on the fourth of March, and on the first of
the month the printer came to me with a
long face and asked what we were to do about
an imposing-stone—a table on which the
pages of letter are laid, to be finally adjusted.
"What with dummy advertisements and
re-prints," said he, " I have got enough matter
to fill the two outer pages, but where is the
imposing-stone to come from?" There was
not such a thing in Meerut, and it would
take at least a week to get one from Delhi.
Search was made, but no slab without a flaw,
and with an even surface, could be found
in either the city or the cantonment. A
horrible idea suggested itself to my printer.
"If we could get a tombstone out of the
churchyard," said he, " it would be just the
very thing, and there's some very nice ones
there, sir; I have been looking over them."
He instanced several that would suit, and he
spoke with a levity of manner, which was
both irreverent and disgusting. He hinted,
too, that he could manage it; but I was not
sufficiently hardened to encourage him in the
crime of which he was so ready to be guilty.
He observed that there was a stone over
a Colonel Webster, in a corner of the yard,
which would answer our purpose exactly;
and, as the tomb was all gone to rack and
ruin, he didn't suppose anybody would miss
or make a noise about it. In justice to the
man, I must own that he was rather the
worse for drink, when this sacrilegious
disposition stole over him.

Although I was not inclined to be a party
to robbing the churchyard, nevertheless I
took the hint, and sent for the old man who
supplied tombstones, and he furnished me
with an article (not a second-hand one)
which answered admirably the purpose
for the time being. It was a rude, uncouth
slab, but it cost me fifteen pounds, besides a
gold mohur—one pound twelve shillings—to
give it something like a smooth face.

The third of the month—the day of publication
—came, that anxious day preceding the
day of issue. My leaders were written, my
local intelligence, my correspondence, my
literature, poetry, were ready—when the
printer came to me and said "How are we
to manage about the inking rollers?—there's
no glue to be got here, sir. We must use
the old style of ink-balls, and these Calcutta
men say they don't understand 'em."

I was fairly wearied out with the obstacles
which appeared to thicken around me, the
nearer we came to striking off our first
impression. It was of no use to be angry, and
I was compelled to superintend the making of
these ink-balls, which consisted of a kid's
skin stuffed with coarse wool.

The pages were upon the imposing-stone.
They were locked up in the chases. The
pressman lifted the form, and was carrying it with
the assistance of an ink man, to the press;
when he stumbled and fell; and the whole
became a mass of confusion, technically
denominated " pie." Eight columns of matter
were mingled together in inextricable
confusion—like the columns of the French army
at the battle of Waterloo—and with precisely
the same sort of feelings that came over
Napoleon on that occasion, I rushed from the
office to my house in a state of agony and
despair which it would be utterly impossible
to describe. It was twelve o'clock at night
when this awful catastrophe happened. What
were Franklin's difficulties compared to mine?
Nothing! And yet I could not help laughing;
although my eyes were bloodshot with
watching the getting out of the paper from
daylight until midnight.

The printer made his appearance, and said,
"It's a very bad job, sir; but if you were
to treat the hands to a couple of bottles of
brandy, they would stay and set it all up
again. Give me the bottles of brandy, sir, and
go to bed, sir, and you shall see the paper
to-morrow morning at eight o'clock, sir. Your
presence in the office makes us all nervous, sir."

I sighed, mechanically gave him the liquor
he required—for himself as well as the
"hands "—threw myself upon a couch, and
soon fell fast asleep. True enough! there
was the paper next morning. It contained
numberless errors of the Press; but still it
was a very decent production.

There was less difficulty in getting out the
second number, and even less with the third.
The paper "took " and was taken. Its exchequer
flourished; and, before long, I had no
sort of trouble; for I had the first foreman
and the best establishment in all India.

now ready, price 5s. 6d., neatly bound in Cloth,
THE SIXTH VOLUME
OF
HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
Containing the Numbers issued between September 11th,
1852, and February 26th, 1853; including the extra
Christmas number, entitled, "A ROUND OF STORIES BY
THE CHRISTMAS FIRE."