The Columbia Democrat. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1837-1850, 1849-04-07

hands to his forehead.
Soon he sat down again upon his low
iron stool dejectedly, and spoke not theI
looking up again, he gazed round, and up
on the keeper and myself, who stood by
the door, beyond his reach,
Come near me, said he, beckoning--
Come nearer no, not you, | fear you,
and he shuddered as the keeper stepped
towards bim--'I fear you, for your eye
strikes terror to my heart, and that, and
the form of my child before me ever, is all
| dread Come, and will tell you of my
child-my little Mary, my own pet child
III tell you how she died.
Not daring to trust myself within his
reach, | stepped as near to him as possi-
BILE, so that he could not reach me ; he bent
forward, and placed his head upon his
hand, and with sudden tremor and wildly
glaring eye, he began:
Once, I know not when, but ! could
count by days, | knew the night, tell
the bright sun and the clear moon and
stars, but now all are the same to me-
DAYS know none, and nights lnger round
me ever; well, long, long ago, ere ] came
to this dull gloomy place, was ou! among
men; drank, eat, cried, laughed like men,
ay, and that too merrily, for | was Jester in
the ring, made the crowd, the hearlless
rabble, laugh and raised merry noise, no
matter whether my heart was sick or gay,
but was glad some times to see the long
tiers, the closely packed boxes, and the
stalls, each one with smiles, to hear the
loud laugh the merry words, and knew
that had caused it ALTO hear their hur-
rahs, to see them wave their hats and hand
keifs, when with shrill whoop, | jumped
into the ring.--That would cheer me some
times when my heart beied the laugh upon
my face the jest to which my tongue gave
utterance.
We'll, 80 years went on, until my wife,
my own beloved Mary, died; she whom
loved so fondly and true, ! laid to sleep
in the cold damp earth no one could have
thought that |, the Jester, the clown, the
one who made them laugh could wcep
But oh how many hours | have passed
beside tha, lonely gravei my Mary she
( had loved me as few women love, she had
,rodon in the same rough road, walking
beside me in my troubles and sorrows, shar-
ing what enjoyed, or suffered without a
murmer and when knew she was dead
it seemed as if my time on earth was over
and the same grave dug for her should take
me in also. But she had left me one over
whom must watch with anxiousness, and
love if possible, more than heretofore, my
little daughter, the image of her mother, my
own little pet, Mary.
i struggled with the deep, the bite
curse of poverty. Gould have gained ;
livelihood by toll, ncessant hardship ant
endurance, elsewhere, gladly would | hav'
rushed TO it and blessed heaven 70
its kindness. But no; poor, broken
down, a miserable, wretched man--nc
profession, no business, save the one fol-
lowed. was still forced to drag on in the
arena, where my wants allowed but very
short scanty respite upon my wife''
death.
Blu, what cared the crowd the clomr
should not be sad, no no, impossible fo
the ring jester to weep, 1t was thin!
unheared of, and would have raised loud
er laugh than any Of my liveliest saIlies.-
And SO with heart overburthened, slcl
and faint, was foced to laugh and max,
merry.
'Oh, what pleasure and joy to M
was little Mary how her sweet arlles
smiles lit up the gloom within my breas
how her merry laugh made me fee
young and happy for the time, and wit
what fondness, strange, ay, mad devotio
, did hang upon every word, tone, loo
! Of hers She grew, and was beautiful
, indeed,
How many hours when the toll Of m,
profession was over for the night, did S
beside her little cot, and gaze upon her a
Y she lay sleeping before me often, very o
Y ten, with a smile playing upon her lovel
r fare, telling that her dreams we're swe'
= and pleasant and make me even emil