And lo, in this dream he beheld a man sitting lonely upon a lump of frozen water; his features were set and stern in mould, and icicles dangled from the tips of his fingers and his nose.
AND THE VOICE
SAID “WOE!”And it seemed to the chief that he heard in his dream a voice, and the voice said, “Woe!”
Yea, “woe to those who have done this thing, who have placed me here in this frigid spot and forgotten my existence.”
“When they die may their noses long for icicles and long in vain, may their parched tongues cleave into the gum roofing of their mouths, and in their misery may they think of me.”
And the chief man rose up early in the morning and summoned before him, Mr. Sansom, the interpreter of the court, and related to him his dream.
But the interpreter shrugged his shoulders, and muttering, “nix firstay,” he retired to his studies of the mystic and the profound.
But it happened that when the city’s organs published the dream, the minds of men reverted to their solicitor in the vaults of the Knickerbocker Ice Co., and the interpretation of the dream was clear.
And the hearts of men were moved to pity and impulses of compassion, and they desired that the incarcerated man might view the fading glories, which in their brilliancy, had gladdened his fellow-citizens.
And the chief called his counsellors together, and Bardsley the son of his father rose up and spoke. “Listen, ye pilgrims, to the words of wisdom which fall like wild honey and locusts of the wilderness from my lips!”
“Behold, the days of the Exposition are not yet quite done; it is still unsafe to risk this man’s attendance thereat; but lo, I would suggest a plan whereby we may display in safety our compassion.