“I shall be next,” thought the terrified dreamer. He looked down on his own galling chains, and lo! they were formed of innumerable pice and pies, the fruit of petty frauds for which he had sold his soul. The destroyer approached; the trembling Sardar seemed already to hear the doom, “He is mine! bear him away!” The poor wretch made so desperate an effort to burst his chains, that lo! he awoke from his dream.