The Oldest Printer

Fifty-sevcn j ears at the case, said ! the foreman of the World coinposingroom to the reporter, as he pointed out an old gray-bearded man picking up type in the corner of the room. The old man stood where the sunlight feil full upon him, and he was chewing tobacco undor his green shade and clicking type in his stick unconcernedly. " He never stops chewing. He comes down here at 6 in the morning and works till 6 in the evening. He oever eats a mouthful nor takes a drink; he lives on tobáceo." " Uncle Bob," said the reporter, as he approached the old type-setter and touched him on the shoulder, " how old are you ? " Tlie old gentleman looked up kindly into the reporter's eyes, and answered, " I was 75 day bef ore yesterday." His name is Robert Tappan, but everybody calis him Uncle Bob. " I was born in Kingston, Ulster county, in 1803. I entered the office of my unole - the Ulster Plebeian - in 1821. I worked on the same press that Jesse Buell nsed. I carne to New York in i 1824, on the James Kent, and we took Lafayette on board at West Point and brought him to New York with os. When I carne to New York I went into Maj. Noah's office, the Enquirer, then on the Courier and Enquirer, whero I worked steadily for twenty-one years. Mr. Webb presen ted me with a magnificent Bible, and I've kept it twentyfour years." On tho day following the above Uncle Bob canie down to the office with the Bible in a basket. " Here," he said, as he opened the book and pointed to the i fly-leaf, " read this." Preeented to Robert Tappan, on Xmas, 1854, j as a Tery flight testnuony of rospect and rei gard for his charactor and appreciation of lu valuahlb and faithful services in tho offico of tbo Vourier and Knuirer from 1882 to tho present time, by hia friond, J. Watson Webb. Doe. 25, 1854. The old man then whipped cut his genealógica! record, written with blue ink on a narrow slip of paper. It went so far back that it was perplexing to diye for. He skipped a few generations as he pointed about an inch from the top of the slip and said, "I'v% got a pair of sleeve-buttons belonging to Christopher Kiersted, who was the father of my grandfather Luke. Luk e was a surgeon in the Revolution with Washington, at Newburg." And then, as he traveled by a panhandle route over the blue ink, he said, "A grand-nephew of Gov. George Clin ton married my grandfather's sister. I I was married on Dec. 15, 1831, to Maria C. Low, of Flatbush, whose grandfather was Col. Bauman, of the artillery regiment that placed the flagstaff on the Battery on the day the British evacuated New York. He was afterward appointed first Postmaster of New York." Uncle Bob lives in Brooklyn with one of his marrieá sons. He is fond of life and enjoyment, and on Hallow-eve played "blind-man's bnff" and "button, button" as lively as any of the family. He has been at work on the World ever ' since he left the Courier and Enquirer, which is now nearly fifteen years. "You have read many handwritings in your time, haven't yon, Uncle Bob? " "Yes, indeed; but old Bennett's was the worst I ever tackled," he answered. And onco more the click of his type sounded in the corner.- New York World.