Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1874-02-19
SHERIFF THORNE.

BY j. T. TRowBRIDGE.
THAT should be sheriff and keep he jail,
And that yonder stately old fellow. you see
Marching across the yard, should be
Ny prisoner-well, lisa curious tale,
AS you'll agree.
For it happens, we've been here once before
Together, and served our tme-although
Not just as you see Us now, you know;
Nhen we were younger both by score
OF years, or so.
When was a wild colt two-thirds grown
Too wild for ever a curb or rem,
Playing my tricks till needn't explain
got three months at breaking stone,
With ball and chain.
The fodder was mean and the work was hard,
AND work and could never agree;
And the discipline-weIl, in short, you see,
Twas rather a Toguish kind of card
That curried me!
A stout steel bracelet about my leg,
a cannon-shot and chain at my feet,
pounded the stones in the pubic street,
With q heart crammed full OF hate as an egg
Is fail Of meat.
The school-boys Jeered at my prison rig,
And me, if / moved, they used to call
For went with jerk, if | went at all
"a gentleman dancing the jail-bird jig
At Z county DALI!
But once. as sat in the usual place.
on heap of stones and hammered away
a
And cursed Macadam and all his race
There CHANGED that way
sir. the loveliest grill don't mean pretty.
But there was that in her troubled eye,
In her sweet, sad glance, as she passed me by,
That seemed like an angels gentle pity
Fer such as l.
Ard, sir, to my soul that poor look gave
such thrill as summer morning brings,
With its twitter and futter of songs and wings,
10 one crouched all night long in a cave
OF yenomous things.
Down the broad green street she passed from sight:
But all that day was under spell.
And all that night remember we'll
A pair of eyes made kind of light
That filled my cell.
Women can de with US what they will;
Twas only village girl but she,
With the flash Of glance had shown tome
The wretch was, and the self | still
Might strive to be.
And if in my misery began
To feel fresh hope and courage stir,
To turn my back upon things that were,
And my face 70 the future of man,
Twas all for her.
And that is ma story. And as for the lady?
saw her-oh. yes-when was free.
And thanked her, and-well, come with me;
as likely a. not, when supper Is ready,
She'll pour your tea.
she keeps my house; and l keep the jail;
And the stately old fellow who passed just now
And tipped me that very peculiar bow
But that is the wonderful part of the tale,
AS you'll allow.
For he you must know, was sheriff then,
And he guarded me az guard himl
(The fetter / wore fits his limbD
just one of your high-fown, straight4laced men,
Pompous and grim,
The Great Mogul of our little town!
But while was struggling to redeem
My youth. he sank in the worlds esteem;
My stock went up, while his went down,
Like the ends of a beam.
What fault? Twas not one fault alone
That brought him low, but treacherous train
OF vices sapping the heart and brain.
Then came his turn at breaking stone,
With ball and chain.
1t seemed, admit, sort of treason,
To clip him, and give him the cap and ball,
And that was his keeper seemed wors tof all
And now, in q word, If you ask the reason
OF this mans fall
Twas q woman again-is my reply.
And 30 | said and | say it still,
That women do with us what they will:
Strong men they turn with the twirl of an eye,
For good or i'll.
Atlantic Monthly.