THE MAN OF BUSINESS AND THE PRINTER—A PARABLE.

Poverty Bay Standard, Volume II, Issue 209, 30 September 1874, Page 2

THE MAN OF BUSINESS AND THE PRINTER—A PARABLE.

There was, once upon a time, a man who kept a store, and sold goods wholesale and retail.

And he became melancholy, because customers were shy and times were bad. And he said : Lo I I am being ruined, and the sensation is disagreeable.

And my ruin is more painful to bear because it is slow in progress, even as water doth gradually become hotter in the pot where the lobster boileth, until the crustaceous creature shaketh out his soul in anguish.

Lo! it is better to be ruined quickly than to endure this slow torture.

I will give my money away to the poor man—even the poorest, which is he who printeth newspapers ; and I will shut up shop, and wrap myself in the sackcloth of desolation, and pass my days in the purlieus of broken banks, cursing the hardness of the times, and rending my garments.

And the howling of Rome shall be as the dulcet sounds of the dulcimero, and they who blow flutes and instruments all of music, compared to the din I will make in the ears of the bank directors.

And even as he said, so did he ; for he was not like other sons of men, who are foolish and know it not, aud say they will do so and so, performing afterwards that which is contrary.

For the sons of men are fickle, so that he that is born of woman doth spite his face by diminishing the nose thereof.

And lo I the printer—even he who did publish newspapers—was made glad by the bounty of him who sold wholesale and retail ; and he did sound his praises and did blow the trumpet of fame respecting the man’s dealing, from the rising of the sun to the going down thereof.

And he —even the printer of papers — did magnify and enlarge upon the stock of goods which the trader had in his store, aud did publish the variety, and the newness, and cheapness thereof till the people—yea 1 all of them —far and near were amazed.

And said, Lo 1 this man has gathered from the East and West costly merchandise and wares of wondrous value —even the workmanship of cunning artifices, and we knew it not.

Go to, then. We will lay out our silver and our gold in those things which the printer printeth of, and that which he doth publish shall be ours. For this man’s merchandise is better than the bauk-notes of those who promise to pay and therein lie—even banks of deposit, which beguile us of our money, aud swindle us like sin. But the trader was still sad, and he said. The money that these people bring me will I give to the printer, and thus will I ruin myself; I will do that which no man hath yet done in my time or before me. I will make the printing man, whom all men scorn for his poverty, rich ; he shall rejoice, and the sons of men shall seek him in the market place, and the sheriff shall shun him, and the scoffers shall be rebuked, and take off their hats to him, who was poor. For I will ruin myself, and he who advertiseth me shall enjoy my substance. But lo 1 the trading man—even he who sold merchandise, became rich, and even as the unclean beast lieth in the mire, so stirred he not by reason of much gold.

And the people flocked to his store from the North. And from the South. And from the East. And from the West.

But the trader could not become poor, and his melancholy ceased, and the smiles of happiness were on his face.

And his children became mighty in the land, by reason of the pounds which the people, who read his advertisements, poured into that trader’s money-bag.