Buchanan County bulletin. [volume] (Independence, Iowa) 1869-1891, 1876-11-17
THE EDITORS DREAM.
BY b. W. BLANCHARD. JR.

By II. w. BLANCHARD. JR.
The editor sat in his sanctum at the close Of one
weary day,
The devil y had swept the Office clean and put
the "roller" away;
The foreman and comps had slid into their
coats, and like spirits silently flown,
The devil stole ont OF the Office door and left
the 'old man " alone!
The scissors and pastepot sat by his side and the
waste basket close by his feet
The rats were gnawing the old 'roler core" and
thought il deliciously sweet,
The exchanges were scattered all over the floor,
and 'pi" laid around on the stone
The shadows Of evening had darkened the room, =
yet the editor sat there alone.
He thought of the bills the morrow would bring,
as he sat there and gazed on the floor,
OF his ready print" paper from Kellogg Co.
c. o. d. forty dollars or more,
He thought of the 'comps," and the strings they
would paste and bring him on Saturday night,
{ He was fond Of his workmen, and made it a
practice to pay them as well as he mighty
He thought-and he groaned-a and tear slowly
stole down his cheek now furrowed by care,
He looked at his clothes, seedy and old not as
good as a drayman could wear;
Then he thought of his bills, and the dear ones at
home. who looked unto him for their bread
And he kicked the waste basket under the stone
and earnestly wished he was dead.
The twilight had merged into night, and the stars
twinkled gleefuly up in the sky, .t.t,..
The walls Of the dingy old Office re-echOed the
sound Of the cricket's shrill cry;
The editors head on the table reclined, and his
form was "locked up in sleep,
His feet had slid from his char round and showed
the exchanges up in heap.
He slept-he dreamed and in fancy he saw troop
ing up from fathOmless space,
host of spirits, rank and file, each one in its
proper place,
Before them strobe their leader, the divine i'm
mortal FAUST.
On, on they came, through mystic fields no hu-
man foot had crossed
They hovered DER the sleepers head, and gather
ed about his chair.
They piled the exchanges up snug and neat and
brought the waste basket there;
Then their leader waved silence, and tenderly
laid his hand on the editors head,
And in tones sweet and low. yet burning with
love, these beautiful words he said
go on, in the good work begun" he exclaimed.
NOR falter nor halt by the way
Your mission is noble, your work is divine, you
cannot afford to delay:
The world far and wide is the field of yOur strife
the pen pure and honest your sword.
The PRESS and the TYPES are your shield and
your guide, the labor you well may afford
Toll on; for before you there lies bright crown
which monarchs may never possess
A wreath as unfading as heavens own stars-tEe
lnvncible POWER OF THE PRESS;
Nor kings, priests, nor rulers your power dare dis
pute nor sects nor creeds bar your way,
With Truth as your watchword. with GoD as
your guide and JUSTICE the Queen you obey.
Then onward. my brother! press forward and on,
nor falter at sight OF the foe,
The brave are the victors, the firm never fall,
though winds OF adversely blow,
And when yon have finished your work with your
PEN, and the press shall know you no more,
In the Lambs book of life. your "page" shall be
bound and filed with the blessed gone before