Cooper's Clarksburg register. [volume] (Clarksburg, Va. [W. Va.]) 1851-1861, 1853-12-28

lI-
The shadows. let me tell you. that lie
around cold, stone walls and piles of brick.
are dead, gloomy, snllen shadows. There $
neither music nor motion in them. The
thousands. let them tell You that know,
that jostle and crowd, and swell these
thoroughfares TO the verge of congestion.
have no time to be humane They would
be. If they could pause. and listen. and
think, and feel in their hearts and feel in
their pockets. They would be, if griefs
were advertised in the newspapers. with
" unquestionable references" But Sor-
row is dumb. Vice is hideous. and Famine
has shriveiled lips. What pity
And then again; as almost everybody
says. "these things can't be so they are
hctions; or why shouldn't we have heard
of them before ?''
Why? The carol of happiness by your
own FIRE sides, is too loud-thauk God for
the carol land the silk that drapes your
windows is too thick--thauk God for the
silk worm l-for you to hear the feeble
wall that comes up from street corner and
cellar, every day and night in the year,
within thirty minutes walk of the Park. $
Now and then voice like " Little Ka.
tys's" with "a dying fall" in it, makes IL
self heard but not often. Tears have beon
shed over that simple and touching story
that never would have fallen over Little
Katy herself, had she lived to tell il in
her own native eloquence, amid her faint
cries, coming up throught the darkness, of
"hot-corn II
But that appeal is repeated, as our lit
tie waif edges confidently near us again /:
" Will you ?''
"Have you had any breakfast, this
morning ?" No answer came for a long
time, and We repeated the question. Ev.
cry muscle in the young face quivers with
the reply. Did you hear it? Mol What
do you think it was? "Not a crumb !
Not crumb!'
That utterauce would have made some
body's fortune. in dramas imaginary
woes it would have made another Cor
della Howard. But the rehearsals-you
may imagine how terrible they have been;
for this is not the first time that child has
had wrung from it the words, '' not a
crumb.'
I" Let ME go home with You. and stay
to-night-Ill sleep On the floor if you will
i most always sleep on the foOr."
Stay tonight. indeed No wonder the
poor thing thinks night will soon set in.
for YEARLY must these bright morning
hours have fingered.
The little fellows wants were supplied,
and he is now cared for, but the mot a
crumb." will often come back to US, like
the sad burden of a melancholy song.
Speaking of songs; exactly opposite
where we are standing. Juvenile song
seller has arraigned his rhyming wares in
long row. close to the sunny side of wall.
each particular ditty with fragment of
stone ON it. to keep the October wind
from being his best customer.
Look at the little rascal, down on the
sidewalk, pitching cOppers with himself.
doubtless, just to keep his hand in, till he
an make "sutfin." tie must be Pow
erty's favorite child in fact. POverty's
Joseph, for his garments are of many col
ors and many pieces. But precious little
does he care for that, as he intersperses his
whistling. Staging ana penny tossing with,
Z" Here's your nice songs Only one
cent e.
There he has sold three within mi
mute. AMI is just laying out portion Of
the profits with his next neighbor, the
old apple woman.
saw somebody very much Ike this
young dealer in Lyrics. curlcd up fast
asleep upon door step in Fulton Street
this morning; and no doubt. his dreams
were as pleasant to him as those of the
young heir to realm : visions of purcha-
sers in long rows, small pyramids of pies
and peanuts; out Of the sales, and who
knows but ticket to " the pit ~
There is another phase in Juvenile life
in New York. Never think he'll ask you
for sheI;er. He wouldn't thank you for
a sigh, sermon or supper.
"Buy song? 0nly cent -
Anything in the way of trade If you
want to swOp poor knife for a worse one.
he's your man but your sympathy is
thrown away. His rags would fiuter
with indignation, at the bear idea. He ?
Why, he can take care of himself, as long
as a solitary bar Of music fingers in mems
souls.
Here's your nice songs for penny
apiece %
Has he mother. you think to yourself.
Go over and ask, and you shall hear what
he will say. Here we are, right upon
him before he discovers US. and he scram-
bles up with a "Buy a song. sir O. and
commences a qaeer sort Of a
shuttle with one shoe. an age too OLD.
Proceed with your catheehism. "My
boy have you a mother 2"
No, you d-e-o-n-t," and visionary
is playing with wonderful We
locity at the extremity of his facial pro-
where's..yoHrn Does she know
you're out"
There Hadr't you better close the
inquest forthwith Yon haYn't found the
place where thoughts and hopes and fan
cies get in and out of the fellows heart !;
and while you are Pazzling yourself what