The period I was in the navy was too strenuous to admit of anything but adapting myself to the life; with the exception of dodging ex-convicts with which the navy is amply supplied.
After I found myself beached and began life again, I had completely forgotten the fact that I had ever played unless some one who knew me of old questioned me in this regard.
It was not until I came here that I had the desire to play at all, and never while here has that desire framed into a resolve until now. Were I never to see you again I will always remember you, your kindness has awakened long buried impulses.
I have gone into this thing further than I intended; my intention was to thank you for your kindness in coming to see me. I little thought when you came into the P. K.’s office to have your record taken, the first day of your self-imposed term, that I should be in your thoughts even for a little while. I knew you were over me when I commenced to play, but never dreamed or hoped that it would have any more than a passing effect upon you. And when I passed you at different times I avoided you, as I did not think there was anything about me which would attract your interest, knowing as I do how little consideration I deserve from anyone.
Your kindness will never be forgotten. Nothing can happen during the remainder of my term which will afford me greater happiness. A happiness accompanied with a deep regret for all that I have neglected and opportunities unaccepted, but for which I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Very respectfully,
Charles F. Abbott (P. K.’s Clerk),
Auburn Prison, October 17, 1913.
I think most schools and colleges might be successfully challenged to show a letter better expressed or showing a finer spirit of manliness. In fact one finds in all these letters, and in many others not included here, a peculiar note of clearness; it is to be found also in the talk of many of these men, after you have succeeded in gaining their confidence; a rare note of sincerity and strength—as if the unimportant hypocrisies of life had been burned away in their bitter experiences.
In the month of December, 1913, immediately upon my return from a six weeks’ business trip to Europe, I visited my friends at the prison. Then I found that my shopmate, Jack Bell, had been transferred to Clinton Prison on account of his health. A day or two later I received the following acknowledgment of some postcards I had sent him.
Dannemora, New York, Sunday, Dec. 14, 1913.
The Hon. Thomas Mott Osborne.