A Printer's Dream

A printer sat in his office chair, bis boots were patched and his coat threadbare, -while his face looked weary and worn with care ; while sadly thinking of business debt, oíd Morphens slowly round him crept, and before he knew it he soundly slept ; and, sleeping, he dreained that he was dead, from trouble and toil his spirit had fled, and that not even a cow bell tolled, for the peaceful rest of his cow-hide solé. As he wandered among the shades, that smoke and scorch in the lower Hades, he shortly observed an iron door, that ereakingly swung on hinges ajar, but tlie entrance was closed by a red-hot bar, and Satan himself stood peeping out, and watching for travelers thereabout, and with growling voice the echoes woke : " Coiné iu, my dear, it shall cost yon nothing anc never fear ; this is the place where 1 cook the ones, who never pay their snb soription sums, for though in life they may escape, they will find when deail ït is too late ; I will show the place where I melt them thin, with red-hot chains and scraps of tin, and also where I comb their hoads with broken glass and melted Itad, and if of refresliments they only think, there's boïïing water for them to drink ; thero's the red-hot grindstone to grind down his nose, and redhot rings to wear on his toes, and if they mention they dou't like fire, 111 sew up their moutha with red-hot wiro ; and then, dear sir, you should see them squiriin whüe I rqll them over and cook to a turn." With these last words the printer awoke, and thought it all a practical joke ; but still at times so real did it seem, that he cannot believe it was all a dream ; and often he thinks with a chucklo and grin. of the fate of those who save their tin, and never pay the printer. " J