What a tribe the tribe of proofreaders is! I think some men, some writers, owe a great part of their reputations to the excellence of their proofreaders–to their vigilance, their counsel. Who can do justice to the [a]cute, keen intellects of men of this stamp–their considerate patience, their far-seemingness?
Very few people know–very few readers of books–literary people–what we owe to proof-readers–the indefatigable proof-reader. I knew one–Henry Clark, a man not of extraordinary appearance–plain–but a man who seemed the deeper, more expansive, the more a fellow looked. He was a Boston man–the reader of the final proofs of the Boston edition  of Leaves of Grass.
He is an important critter–the most important, I often think, in the making of a book. It easy enough to have good material–a plenty of everything–but to put all in its rightful place and order!–oh! that is another thing! I have a great respect for the decided opinions of good printers, proofreaders–am disposed, every time, to yield to them. Long experience has taught me their wonderful [a]cuteness. Accent and all that is always a foggy latitude to me. I never feel certain of myself in it.
[proper citation forthcoming: love, the bad copyeditor]