San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1890-10-01
ENGINEER CONNOR'S SON.

perpetual sunshine and roses. Some are
rounded to darker lines, running always be-
side the deeper abysses of tragedy.
Some there are who live their threeScore
and drop out of existence, and the memory
of them, for good or ill., ceases with the toll
ing of the bell that tells their going And
there are some, short little lives, to be sure
but SO brim full of sweetness that the very
sunshine Of them fingers in the hearts of
those who knew them long after the little
lives are ended.
When Jack Conner was promoted to the
position of engineer on the n. and c. road
which cuts the state of Tennessee from north
to south, he moved his family into the pretty
little cottage standing side by side with Grip
pied Jerry Cranes, on the hill just above the
railroad track, in the little village of An
tioch For the engineer was from home most
If the t me, and Jerry, being cripple, Jack
knew would insure his own wife considerable
company and protection in Jerry's wife.
The houses stood side by side, and both
| ioOrs opened towards the railroad. The vii
age, indeed, was built so, straight down the
! railroad, for the train was about the biggest
| thing about Antioch.
Jack COnnor's cottage stood on a hill so
rear to the track that he could speak to his
wife from his engine when she stood in the
iOOr, as she usually did, to see No. 90 by.
The train men were pretty well acquainted
| with the Antioch people in general, but there
was not one among them, from conductor
down, who did not know Jack Connor's son.
Little jack" they called him, and the
train never whistled for Antioch but they
would look out for the little fellow hoisted
on the woodpile to see his fathers engine
90 by.
lie seldom went further than the wood
pile, that was his mothers order, though
the brakeman and the train butcher would
sometimes try to coax him down to the plat
| form with apples and sticks Of striped candy.
But he would shake his yellow curls and
throw them a kiss as the long train pulled
| out.
| Sometimes his mother would take him
>.own to speak to his father, and the little
| fellow would go almost wild over the big en-
g.ne, and the glowing furnace, the great bell
| canging a haSty good-by, and the shrill
whistle, which he more than once had been
| leymtted to pull"
Just naturally takes to the engine" the
| creman would often say; ''gets that from his
| lappy."
And Jack did seem to have a natural love
| Tor a locomotive.
Jerry Crane used to say of him:
Il can allus tell when the cyars are COM
nG-there's shapbang of neighbor Connors
! daor, a click of the gate, and in a minute a
| little yellow head top of a big pile of wood,
| and when see it l always say to my wife:
| Nary, the cyars are coming And she looks
uut, not at the railroad track, but at the
| woodpile, and says she: Yes, they are com,
ing, jerry"
Sometimes neighbor would pass and speak
| to him.
Amy news today, Jack"
Fathers abroad today, sir" he would an
swer, or else, There's bridge dam between
here and Chattanooga sir" or ''No. will be
| fifteen minutes late today, sir"
He always had something to tell and it was
| mostly of the trains or the track, engines or
wrecks. Anything that concerned the rail-
road was interesting to Jack, for, aside from
mis- admiration for the locomotive, little
Jacks father went up, then down. that long
steel track just once each way every day.
! He had his fathers head, the trainmen said,
but the neighbors declared he had his moth
er's sunny, hopeful, helpful nature.
But one day trouble came to her door.
| Engineer Common was brought home in a
caboose, both legs mashed and an arm gone,
while his engine lay in ruined heap under a
! broken bridge just beyond the Tennessee
| river.
Every man had jumped but he-freman,
| brakeman, all but Jack.
Jump, Connor, for your life!' the fireman
had called to him when the timbers began to
crack.
And the man had laid his hand upon the
| throttle and said
You forget Pm engineer
And there he staid until the crash came.
He was not quite dead when the boys found
| him, and all the time they were working with
| him he was praying. just Tor life TO get
home,n they heard him whisper just long
| enough TO get home and die with my wife and
boy"
His prayer was granted; he reached home
| and the two he loved best on Gods rth.
| just before he died he reached for his pocket
| book under his pillow and handed it to his
| wife.
1t is all I've got, Annie" he said. 81 wish
| it was more, wife"
Then he laid his hand on the little head
| with its crown of yellow curls pressing his
pillow. He seemed to forget the boy was
only baby.
Jack" he said, ~ leave your mother to
you. Take care of her, my man"
Then his mind seemed to wander; he was
on the engine one moment, the next with his
| family again.
THE company will do something for you
| by and by, Jack" he said, land always re-
member-don't forget it, Jack that any man
in time of danger may desert, any man but