The Roanoke times. [volume] (Roanoke, Va.) 1890-1895, 1893-03-05

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known any other. He could not re-
member when the long waiting-rooms
with their tiled floors and drcary rows
of stationary scttccs and crowds of
hurrying people, were not quite as ia
miliar to him and more homclillc than
his mothers small, bare house, which
he knew as little more than Il place for
eating and sleeping.
at an age when any ordinary baby
might have been frightened into con-
vulsions by the Shrek of locomotive,
Joe, securely fastened in his cab,
would stare for hours through the
great window undisturbcd by the in
cessant rush and roar of arriving and
departing trains.
He had been only six months old
when the dreadful accident happened
which at one fell stroke made him
fathcrlcss and transformed him from Il
strong, we'll developed infant to Il pitt
full creature, which even death refused
to take.
The old yardmcn tell the story even
yet-how young Michael Bryan, as
straight and manly a fellow as ever
left his green. old native island for the
better chances of the new world this
side of the sea, came whstling out of
the roundhousc that morning and
stepped hastily from before an incom-
ing locomotive, neither seeing nor
hearing another rushing up the paral-
lei track. His mates cried out to him
too late! Nobody who saw it would
ever forget the look of agony which
distorted his handsome face in that
one horrible instant when lie recog-
nized his doom, or the perpendicular
leap into the air, from which he fell
back beneath the crunching wheels
In the excitement and CONSERVATION
of the time no messenger had been
sent in advance to prepare the poor
young wife for her trouble, and she
stood in the doorway with her baby
Growing in her arms, when the stout
bearers paused at her gate with their
maugled burden. She uttered Il terri
BILE cry and fell fainting-the childs
tender back striking the sharp edge of
the door stone.
What pity that it was not killed
outright" said everybody but the
mother. She herself always insisted
that only her constant watching over
the little Pickering life kept her from
gong mad in the first dreadful months
of her bereavement.
When Joe was seven years old his
mother sent him to school. He went
patiently day after day, making no
complaint, but she awoke suddenly one
night to find him sobbing on the pill
low beside her. Only by dint of long
coaxing was she able to find ont the
cause of his grief. Some of the rougher
boys-more thoughtless than cruel, let
us hopc-had called him Humpy, and
asked if he carried bag of meal on
his back.
Mary famed with the fierce anger of
motherhood.
You shan't so another day." she de-
clared. 1.-The rufians! / won't have
my darlin' put upon by the likes of
them!'
So Joc's schooling had come to an
nntimely end Yet, mcagcr as was his
stock of book learning the develop
mcnt Of his mind far outstrippcd the
growth of his stunted and dcformcd
body Everybody liked the patient
little fellow Juggling manfully at his
mothers heavy water buckets and
running willingly to every call of the
station men. At twelve years old he
had picked up no small amount Of in
formation, especially on RAILROAD top
les lie knew every locomotive on the
road, understood the intricacics of the
side tracks and switches, and could
tell the precise moment when any par
ticular train might be expected with
the accuracy of n time table.
Yet the very quickncss and ardor of
l, L..
trinity. The chances cast upon him by
stranger eyes, some pitiful, some Gu
rious, others, alas! expressive only Of
annoyance and disgust, ranked like so
many arrows in his heart; not one
missed its mark. How wistfully his
eyes followed boys of his own age
straight, handsome, happy-who sprang
lightly up and down the steps of the
coaches, or threaded their way along
the crowded platforms. For one day
OF such perfect, untrammcled life he
would have bartered all the possible
years before him. Yet he never put
his yearnings into words, even to his
mother
Crooked Joe's rum 'un, )" said one of
his rough acquaintances. "IIe senses
his trouble we'll enough. but he don't
let on TO nobody"
Mr.. Crump, the telegraph operator,
was Joc's constant friend. 1t was he
who, at odd moments, had taught the
boy to read and had initiated him
into some of the mysteries of the
clicking instrument, which to Joe's
imaginative mind seemed some strange
creature with hidden life of its own.
1t was growing toward darl, ono No
vcmbcr afternoon. Joe-ncver ,nun-