Abstract

In the Driftway

The Drifter loves the smell of printer's ink. At least that is the traditional way of putting it. In point of fact the Drifter cares less about the smells of a printing plant than about its sights and sounds. In pursuit of the latter the Drifter from time to time rambles through New Chambers Street, east of New York's Municipal Building, until he comes to Number 57. There he climbs the iron stairway to the Nation Press, where--along with other jobs--the palladium of liberty in which this column appears is printed. The Drifter revels in the sights and sounds he finds there. There is something almost uncanny in the dexterity, skill, and, yes, intelligence of this machine. But even the marvelous machines of a printing plant sometimes go wrong.