The Chicago Citizen

THE EDITOR'S DREAM

Last evening I was talking
With an editor aged and gray,
Who told me of a dream he had
I think 'twas Christmas day.

While snoozing in his office,
The vision came to view,
For he saw an angel enter,
Dressed in garments white and new.

Said the angel, "I'm from heaven,
The Lord just sent me down
To bring you up to glory
And put on your golden crown.

You've been a friend to every one,
And worked hard night and day,
You have educated thousands:
And from few received your pay.

So we want you up in glory,
For you have labored hard,
And the good Lord is preparing
Your eternal, just reward."

Then the angel and the editor
Started up towards glory's gate,
But when passing close to hades.
The angel murmured, "Wait!"

I have a place to show you-
It's the hottest place in hell-
Where the ones who never paid you
In torments always dwell."

And, behold, the editor saw there
Old subscribers by the score,
And grabbing up a chair and fan
He wished for nothing more;

But was bound to sit and watch them
As they'd sizzle, singe and burn,
And his eyes would rest on debtors,
Whichever way they'd turn.

Said the angel, "Come on, editor,
There's the pearly gates to see,"
But the editor only murmured,
"This is heaven enough for me."

—Flandrieu Herald.