“You are a liar,” replied the general; “you are one of my subjects; I know you by your strait-cut dress, which, without doubt, you have made out of the clippings of some other; come, obey; cast yourself into the fire, or I will throw you in.” As he was about to bind me, my demon informed the general that I was not yet dead; that I had never been of any trade, and that he believed I should not be one of their subjects, because those who descended quick into hell, conducted themselves afterwards in such a manner, as not to revisit it after death; furthermore, the cross of Saint James, (which I carried,) would inspire fear, and cause false alarms in the bosoms of the damned. “Come hither, then,” said the general, “and profit by what you see; you know, at least, that tailors are the fuel of hell, and serve to burn those that come hither.” My demon advised me to go promptly, because if the general should get angry, he might do me a mischief. In walking along, he informed me the unhappy tailors were so numerous, that they not only fed the great furnace of hell, which warmed all the apartments, but also furnished the table of Lucifer, when he had a mind to feast. “How!” exclaimed I, “Lucifer eat? Can spirits eat?” “Do you not know,” replied he, “that the damned are as the herb the sheep eateth, and that death is this sheep? Have you not read in your sacred books, that death devoureth the damned? _Mors depascet eos_.” While he was speaking, we met a troop of booksellers, at whose head was one Peter Marteau, a publisher, of Cologne; he was loaded with a burden so unwieldy, that it was impossible to comprehend how any one man could bear it. They informed me, these were the books printed under his name, after his death. The booksellers of Holland were also very heavily laden; and those of France bore also the books struck off at their houses, with the title of a Dutch bookseller. These people were carrying their books to the furnace, but were prevented by a singular accident: a demon, who passed by with a flambeau, approaching to look at them, their papers caught fire, and instantly spread from one to another through the whole body: when they perceived the flame, they threw down their loads, and fled with all convenient speed. I asked them why they were damned: they answered, for the faults of others.