A Post in a Stolen Second

In the Library doing research on my paper on the printer & I'm reading his newspapers from the spring of 1812 on microfilm. I came across this funny little poem he printed in one week's edition, as a not subtle reminder to his subscribers.

“Altered from the Carlisle Herald. 

PRINTER’S SOLILOQUY.

‘’Tis strange! ‘tis most prodigious strange,

That our subscribers are too carless grown,

‘Bout paying their arrears. They cannot think

That we alone, who publish to the world

News from all nations, and to spread

Useful instruction through our spacious land,

Can, mean while, live on air. ‘Tis flesh and blood

That works the press, and turns the blackened sheet,

Well stor’d, and ready for their eager eyes,

This flesh and blood must be recruited oft

As well as theirs, for soon the worst must stop.

This calls for CASH. And then how many reams

Of paper are struck off and scatter’d wide,

For which no length of credit will be given,

If given at all – besides the types and ink-

And many things required by those that print,

For which our money must be answerable.

Oh that our readers would consider this!

And while they laughing look the HERALD o’er,

And gather information from its page,

Would pause, and this one simple question ask,

‘Do not I owe for one, two, three or more

Quarters past, the Printer, who supplies me with

This sheet?’ And oh ! That they would only add,

‘I’ll go even now and pay them,’ so should we

Well pleas’d receive, and with light hearts pursue

Our useful toil, while conscience would applaud

Their conduct, and give relish to the treat

We may prepare. Come then, good friends, and soon!”

Parents have probably left by now -- unless they're still in the Flynt Center. I think they had a great time here in Deerfield (right? I hope?) and I'm really glad they did. It really is a place worth visiting even though it's out of the way, tiny, and may seem uninteresting. Don't be fooled! It's awesome.

Have to scoot, limited Library time. I really just wanted to share the poem, I thought some of you might get laughs. Oh that Ansel Phelps, what a joker.