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The Enchanted Typewriter

The Enchanted Typewriter

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Chapter 1 THE DISCOVERY

Word Count: 2850    |    Released on: 06/12/2017

ng-it is a strange fact, I say, that the substance of the following pages has evolved itself during a period of six months, more or less, between the hours of midnight and fou

come to our house to take down dictations. However this may be, the machine had lain hidden by dust and the flotsam and jetsam of the house for twenty years, when, as I have said, I came upon it unexpectedly. Old man as I am-I shall soon be thirty-the fascination of a machine has lost none of its potency. I am as pleased to-day watching the wheels of my watch "go round" as ever I was, and to "monkey" with a type-writing apparatus has always brought great joy into my heart-though for composing give me th

, is how it came to be that this machine of antiquated pattern was added to the library bric-a-brac. To say the truth, it was of no more practical use than Barye's dancing bear, a plaster cast of which adorns my mantel-shelf, so that when I classify it with the bric-a-brac I do so advisedly. I frequently tried to write a jest or two upon it, but the results were extraordinarily like Sir Arthur Sullivan's experience with the organ into whose depths the lost chord sank, never to return. I dashed off the jests well enough, but somewhere between the keys and the types they were lost, and the results, when I came to scan the paper, were depressing. And once I tried a sonnet on the keys. Exactly how to classify the jumble that came out of it I do not know, but it was curious enough to have appealed strongly to D'Israeli or any o

at whatever its make, its age, and its limitations, it was an extraordinary affair; and, once convinced of that, you may

d coat, in which operation I was interrupted, and in a startling manner, by a click from the dark recesses of the library. A man does not like to hear a click which he cannot comprehend, even before he has dined. After he has dined, however, and feels a satisfaction with life which cannot come to him before dinner, to hear a mysterious click, and from a dark corner, at an hour when the world is at rest, is not pleasing. To say that my heart jumped into my mouth is mild. I believe it jumped out of my mouth and rebounded a

vocal display of bravery I did not

swer was an

med. They are concealed by the darkness and have revolvers. There is only one way out of this,

ars. "If this is the effect of Aldus Club dinners you'd better give them up.

a dozen more clicks in quick succession

nder my breath. "It must be Al

chine was in action; but this was by no means a reassuring discovery. Who or what could it be that was engaged upon the type-writer at that unholy hour, 3 A.M.

of the very extraordinary incident. You may rest well assured, however, that I took care to go armed, fortifying myself with a stout stick, with a long, ugly steel blade concealed within it-a cowardly weapon, by-the-way, which I permit to rest in my house merely because it forms a part of a collection of weapons acquired through the failure of a comic paper to which I had contributed several articles. The editor, when the crash came, sent me th

but out of accord with the keys, confronted by an empty chair, three hours after midnight, rattling off page after page of something which might or might not be readable, I could not at the moment determine. For two or three minutes

the deuce!

essions of letters were being made flew out from under the cylinder, a pur

t do

s in response to my as

t in to write on your own hook, having resolutely declined to do any writing f

d better go to bed; you've dined too well, I imagine. When did yo

your own account, you ought to have mind enough to remember the years you spent up-stairs under

t it. Bed is the place for you. You're not coherent. I'm not a m

"Then what in Heaven's nam

" replied the machine. "Of course I'

u? A thing with keys

l. What on earth are you talking about?" rep

asked, putting my

ys," was t

" I added, indicating

ll," replied

you haven't got t

do me? I'm not a cow or a bicycle. I'm the editor of the Stygian Gazette, and I've come here to copy off my notes of what I see and hear, and besides all th

upon the paper I stood

the copyright laws, they are not designed to benefit authors, but for the protection of type-setters. "Why, my dear fellow, it would break my heart if, having fo

I have never found in any other machine. For instance, singular to relate, Mendelssohn and I were fooling about here the other night, and when he saw this machine he thought it was a spinet of some new p

ally mean to

he music. Then I tried the machine, and discovered another curious thing about it. It's intensely American. I had a story of Alexander Dumas' about his Musketeers that he wanted translated from French into American, which is the language we speak below, in preference to Ger

e to tap off my name, and got instead only a confused jumble of letters. It wouldn't even pay

them to your inspection, hoping that in perusing them you will derive as much satisfaction and delight as I have in being the possessor of so wonderful a machine, manipulated by so interesting a

well has given me all right, title, and interest in these papers i

f gold in royalties," he said. "I can't take it

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