THE MAN OF BUSINESS AND THE PRINTER.—A PARABLE.

Westport Times, Volume VIII, Issue 1157, 10 March 1874, Page 4

THE MAN OF BUSINESS AND THE PRINTER.—A PARABLE.

There was once upon a time, a man who kept a store, and sola goods wholesale and retaii.

And he became melancholy, because customers were shv and times were bad.

And bo said: Lo! I am ruined, and the sensation is disagree able.

And my ruin is the more painful to bear because it is slow in progress, even as water doth gradually become hotter in the pot wherein the lobster boiletbj 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 a newspaper ; and I will shut up shop, and wrap myself in sackcloth of desolation, and pass my days in the purlieus of broken banks, cursing the hardness of the times, and mending my garments.

And the howling of Rome shall be as the dulcet sounds of the dulcimcro, aud they who blow flutes and instrunicnis all of music, compared to the din 1 will make in the cars of the bank directors.

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

For the sons of men arc fickle, so that lie born of woman doth spites his face by diminishing the nose thereof. And ]o ! the printer —even he who did publish' newspapers—was made glad by the bounty of bini who sold wholesale and retail ; and he did sound his praises, and did blow the trumpet of fame, respecting the man's dealings, from the rising of the sun to the going down thereof.

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

And said, lo ! this man has githercd from tho East and West e< ally merchandise and wares of wondious value —even the workiv.auship of cunning artificers —and we knew it not.

• Go to, then. AVe will lay out our silver and our gold in fio.-e things which the printer printeth of, and that whjch he doth publish shall be ours. ]?or this man's merchandise is better than the bank-notes of those who promise to pay and therein lie—even banks of deposit, which, beguile us of our money, and swindle us like sin. But the trader was still sad, and ho

said: Tho money that theso peoplo bring mo will I give to tho printer, and thus will I ruin myself; I will do that which no man hath done ill my time or before mo. I will make tho printing man, whom all scorn for his poverty, rich ; ho shall rejoice, and the sons of men shall seok him in tho market-place, and tho sheriff slum him, and the scoffers shall ho rebuked, and take off their hats to him, who was poor.

For I will ruin myself, and ho wdio advertiseth mo shall enjoy my substance.

But lo ! 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 tho people flocked to his store from the North. And from the South. And from the East. And from the West. And the trader could not become poor, and his melancholy ceased, and the smiles of happiness were on his face. And his children hecamo mighty in tho land, by reason of tho pounds which the people who read his advertisements, poured into that trader's money-bag.