the venerable churchwarden, in his seedy black cloak and sugar-loaf
hat, might be seen wending its way along the banks of the River Spaaren
to his favorite resort in the grove.

One day, while reclining on a mossy couch beneath a spreading beech
tree, amusing himself by tearing strips of bark from the tree that
shaded him, and carving letters with his knife, a happy thought entered
his mind. "Why can I not," he mused within himself, "cut those letters
out, carry them home, and, while using them as playthings, teach the
little ones how to read?"

The plan worked admirably. Long practice had made the old man quite
expert in fashioning the letters, and many hours of quiet happiness
were spent in the grove in this pleasing occupation. One afternoon he
succeeded in cutting some unusually fine specimens, and, chuckling to
himself over the delight they would give the children, he wrapped them
carefully, placing them side by side in an old piece of parchment which
he happened to have in his pocket. The bark from which they had been
cut being fresh and full of sap, and the letters being firmly pressed
upon the parchment, the result was the series of "pictures" which
delighted the child and gave to the world the first suggestion of a
printing press.

And then a mighty thought flashed across the brain of the poor, humble,
unknown churchwarden, a thought the realization of which was destined
not only to make him famous for all time, but to revolutionize the
whole world. The first dim suggestion came to him in this form, "By
having a series of letters and impressing them over and over again on
parchment, cannot books be printed instead of written, and so
multiplied and cheapened as to be brought within the reach of all?"

The remainder of his life was given up to developing this great idea.
He cut more letters from bark, and, covering the smooth surface with
ink, pressed them upon parchment, thus getting a better impression,
though still blurred and imperfect. He then cut letters from wood
instead of bark, and managed to invent himself a better and thicker
ink, which did not blur the page. Next, he cut letters from lead, and
then from pewter. Every hour was absorbed in the work of making
possible the art of printing. His simple-minded neighbors thought he
had lost his mind, and some of the more superstitious spread the report
that he was a sorcerer. But, like all other great discoverers, he
heeded not annoyances or discourageme