The Roanoke times. [volume] (Roanoke, Va.) 1890-1895, 1893-02-12
CONNORS.
Tho Valuo Of Kind Word to q
Lonely Man.


was always interested in what you did,
who was sorry when you got into
trouble, and glad when you behaved
yourself?"
"No, SIR" he had replied; II amt
had friends. l don't seem to maks
friends easy. had good pal oncet
in Chicago, but he didn't gave a-he
didn't care anything about my gcttin'
into trouble"
"Connors," said the lieutenant, and
he looked thoughtfully at Il silver
framed photograph on his desk, that
Connors saw was picture of Il little
girl with long tresscs of wavy hair,
1--WE little daughter back in st. Paul.
l hope She will come out here some
time. More than anything else
should like to leave to her the memory
of her father as an upright and, hope,
4 brave soldier, and if | have any as
pirations for great deeds in this profess
sion of ours, it is because 1 want her to
be proud of me when she grows older.
l think it helps us to do right if we
sometimes think of the sorrow we
bring to those who love us and to our
friends when we do wrong, and, if
L
like you to think of me as your friend,
if you will, for 1 take more of an in
terest in you than in most men I've
known in the ranks, and nothing would
do me more good than to see you bring
credit on yourself and your regiment,
and hardly anything would grieve me
more than to see you go to the devil, as
you will if you don't stop now. But
think you will stop, and, if you will let
me, should like to shake hands with
you"
Connors had suddenly found the pic
turc of the little girl grow rather dim
before his eyes, and something felt I'M
pleasant in his throat, but he managed
to muttcr "Thank yc, SIR" and since
that time he had been drunk only once,
and the feelings he had known when
he found that the lieutenant had heard
of that he had never experienced be fore
And now he was standing on the edge
of the paradc-ground looking out on the
brown prairie over which the cool au-
tumn wind was steadily sweeping, and
wishing he had been better man.
Ear away the curious peaks and rocks
of the Bad Lands rose like the citadcls
Of some ancient city. The scene was
picture of dreariness, not Il living or
moving object in sight. If Connors had
been imaginative he might have fan
cicd he was Il lonely mortal looking
out on the primeval world But his
weary familiarity with these surround
ings prevented their arousing any I'M
usual feelings. lie was thinking of his
wretchcd boyhood and youth, and of
the vice and crime he had seen and
taken part in, of the years sentence he
had served, and how he had enlisted
under an assumed name to es-
cape capture for shooting Sandy Peters
in Fagan's saloon in Chicago. 1t was
true that if he had not shot Sandy,
Sandy would have shot him, but he
knew very we'll that the plea of sclf-de-
tense would have awaited him little
with his past record, and with any
number of Sandy's friends ready to
testify against him. He had sometimes
wished since then that he had not
lodged the rough's pistol, but had
stood still and made fitting end to his
youthful but precocious career in the
appropriate setting of the vilcst dive
in Chicago, and gone into the history of
that city'S crime as a terror to the po-
lice and an object of worthy emulation
to every young tough. What made this
all the more pitiable was that Connors,
with all his knowledge of evil and I'M
happiness, was little more than boy
in years, the time when hope should
seem brightest and life most full of
promise. But of late, since that talk
with the lieutenant, and especially
since the little girl had come ont to Join
her father, life had seemed more hope
full somchow-he could not exactly tell
why. They're the only friends I've
ever had-him and the little 'un," said
Connors to himself, land won't 90
back on 'cm; I'll be a credit to 'em vet
If can"
A great intimacy had arisen between
the little girl and Connors from the
moment when the lieutenant had intro
duced them and the child had said, in a
polite little grown-up manner: I'm
very happy to meet you, Mr.. Connors,"
and had insisted on shaking hands
with the orderly, much to his con-
fusion, for he did not know exactly
what to do with the soft little hand she
held out to him, and his sensations
were curious as he looked into the
great brown eyes she smilingly raised
to his.
81 think Connors will excuse your
calling him mister" said the lieuten-
ant, with a smile.
AS Connors looked out on the prairie
and thought in his way about all these
things, he was conscious that he had
changed very much in the last few
weeks If he could have analysed his
feelings he would have said that he
had more self-respect than ever before,
for he had been living straighter, as he
would have expressed it. He had dis