The Choir Invisible

It must not be inferred that his absence had any political significance. He

had merely gone a few days previous to the little settlement at

Georgetown--named for the great George--to lay in a supply of paper for his

Weekly, and had been detained there by heavy local rains, not risking so dry

an article of merchandise either by pack-horse or open wagon under the

dripping trees. Paper was very scarce in the wilderness and no man could

afford to let a single piece get wet.

In setting out on his journey, he had instructed his sole assistant--a young

man by the name of Charles O'Bannon--as to his duties in the meantime: he

was to cut some new capital letters out of a block of dog-wood in the

office, and also some small letters where the type fell short; to collect if

possible some unpaid subscriptions--this being one of the advantages that an

editor always takes of his own absence--in particular to call upon certain

merchants for arrears in advertisements; and he was to receive any lost

articles that might be sent in to be advertised, or return such as should be

called for by their owners: with other details appertaining to the

establishment.

O'Bannon had performed his duties as he had been told--reserving for

himself, as always, the right of a personal construction. He had addressed a

written appeal to the nonpaying subscribers, declaring that the Gazette had

now become a Try-Weekly, since Mr. Bradford had to try hard every week to

get it out by the end; he had collected from several delinquent advertisers;

whittled out three new capital letters, and also the face of Mr. Bradford

and one of his legs; taken charge with especial interest of the department

of Lost and Found and was now ready for other duties.

On this evening of the ball he was sitting in the office.

In one corner of the room stood a worn handpress with two dog-skin

inking-balls. Between the logs of the wall near another corner a horizontal

iron bar had been driven, and from the end of this bar hung a saucer-shaped

iron lamp filled with bear-oil. Out of this oil stuck the end of a cotton

rag for a wick; which, being set on fire, filled the room with a strong

smell and a feeble, murky, flickering light. Under the lamp stood a plain

oak slab on two pairs of crosslegs; and on the slab were papers and letters,

a black ink-horn, some leaves of native tobacco, and a large gray-horn

drinking-cup--empty. Under the table was a lately emptied bottle.O'Bannon

sat in a rough chair before this drinking-cup, smoking a long tomahawk-pipe.

His head was tilted backward, his eyes followed the flight of smoke upward.