Seventy Years a Showman

SEVENTY years a showman. Seventy years!A long, long day is waning at last. Here in the peaceful shadows of the Garden of Life I pause awhile. I want to drink in the scene. I want to realize the full meaning of it all. Rest yes, I can rest now. The way has been long. It has often been weary. A showman s life, my friends, is not all glory. Beneath the glitter and the tinsel is many a heartache. The open road is often strewn with thorns. And now the journey is nearly ended. Far away in the west I see the setting sun. The garden is hushed in sleep. Ay! The showman s day is gone. The shutters are up. The camp fire, long lighted, is dying away. In its glowing embers I see strange faces. They are the faces of the Past. Tell us the showman s tale, you say. And why not? The very thought of it brings back to my ears the jingle of bells. The dim figures before me turn into a thousand shapes and fancies. Tell you the showman s tale? Ay, that I will. Once more I hear the blare of music and the sound of drums. I catch the laughter of merry children. Walk up! Walk up! Walk up!This way for one of the most singular stories ever told by living man!This way for a tale of strange things, scenes, and adventures!