The Hartford herald., 1875-06-16
"UGLY GREG" AND MS ROSE.
Detroit Free Press.


year or so ago, the high white-washed
walls of the corridors were furnished with
brackets and fower-pots to relieve the mo,
notony and take away the gloom. One
would scarcely think that the rough-look-
ing, wicked men sent there for robbery.
burglary, arson, and the graver crimes,
would have cared for the change, but they
gladly welcomed it. A rose, or geranium,
or tulip, or pink, seemed to bring liberty
and sunshine a little nearer, and to drive
the evil out of their hearts, and it was
strange sight to see hardened criminals
watering and nourish;es the tender plants
ard watching their daily growth.
Two or three months before the bracll-
cts were hung up prisoner came from
one of the territores-an old, sullen.look~
ing, bad-tempered man, convicted of rob-
bing the mails. They called him Greg"
as short for Gregory, and it wasn't long
before they made it ugly Greg" He
was ugly. He refused to work, cared
nothing for rules or regulations, and
twenty-eight days out Of his first month
were spent in the SOLITARY" for bad be-
havior. He was expostulated with,
threatened and punished, but he had a
will as hard as iron. He hadn't friend
in the prison, and the knowledge of it
seemed to make him more ugly and dos-
perate. When the brackets were hung
up, there was one to spare, and it was
placed near the door of Ugly Greg's cell
until another spot could be found. No
one had any hope that the old mans heart
could be softened, and some said that he
would dash the fower-pot to the floor.
When he came in from the shops his
face expressed surprise at the sight of the
little green rosebud so close to the door
ofhis cell. He scented it, carefully placed
it back, and it was noticed that the hard
lines melted out of his face for a time
No one said anything to him, but the next
morning, before he went to work, he care
fully watered the rose, and his eyes lost
something Of their sullen look. Would
you believe that the little rosebush proved
more powerful than all the arguments
and threats of the keepers? 1t did,
strangely enough.
AS the days went by the old man lost
his obstinacy and his gloominess, and he
obeyed orders as well and as cheerfully
as the best man in prison. His face took
on new look, his whole bearing changed,
and the keepers looked at him and won-
dered if he could be the man Greg of
four or five months before. He watched
the rose as a mother would watch child,
and it came TO be understood that it was
his. While some ofthe other flowers died
from the want of care, the rosc-tree grew
! and thrived and made the old man proud.
He carried it into his cell at night and re-
placed it in the morning, and sometimes
| he would talk to it, as iGit were human
being Its presence opened his lonely
heart and planted good seed there, and
from the day the bracket was hung up no
keeper had the least trouble with Ugly
Greg.
A few weeks ago he was taken sick,
and when he went TO the hospital the
rose-tree went with him, and was placed
where the warm sun could give it all the
nourishmcnt it needed. After q day or
two it was hoped that the old man would
get better, but he kept sinking and grow
ing feebler. So long as his eyes were open
he would watch the rose, and when he
| slept he seemed to dream of it. One day
when the nurse found an opening bud he
rejoiced as heartily as if his pardon pa
pers had arrived. The bud was larger
next day, and the rose could be seen
! bursting through. The hower-pot was
| placed on the bed, near the old man's S
face, that he might watch the bud bios
| som into rose, and he was so quiet that
the nurse did not approach him again for
hours. The warm spring sun glided
in through the bars and kissed the OPEN
ing bud, and then fell off in showers over
the old mans pale face, erasing every line
of guilt and ugliness which had ever been
raised.
At noon the nurse saw that the rose
had blossomcd, and she whispered in the
old man s ear:
Greg, Greg, the rose has blossomed;
wake up"
He did not move She felt his cheek
and it was cold. Ugly Greg was dead
One hand rested under his gray locks,
while the other clasped the tlower-pot,
and the newborn rose bent down until it
almost touched his cold face. His life
had gone out just when his weeks of wea,
ry watching for blossom were to be re-
( paid, but the rosc-tree's mission was ac>
complished.
The Sewing Machine Agent.