them used to be a pastoral people, pain of excommunication and getting the boy a letter explaining just what HTT TT RET Pemorratic; Watdpny A — Bellefonte, Pa., September 28, 1928. AT THE LAST. The stream is calmest when it nears the tide, : And flowers the sweetest at the eventide, And birds most musical at close of day, And saints divinest when they pass away. Morning is lively, but a holier charm Lies folded close in Evening’s robe of balm; And weary man must ever love her best, For morning calls to toil, but night to rest. She comes from Heaven, and on her wings doth bear ; A holy fragrance, like the breath of pray- er; Footsteps of angels follow in her trace, To shut the weary eye of Day in peace. All things are hushed before as she throws O’er earth and sky her mantle and repose; There is a calm, a beauty, and a power, That Morning knows not, in the Evening hour. “Until the Evening” we must weep and toil, Plough life's stern furrow, dig the weedy soil, Tread with sad feet our rough and thorny, way, And bear the heat and burden of the day. Oh! when our sun is setting, may we glide, Like Summer Evening down the golden tide; And leave behind us, Sweet, starry twilight clay. —From the Watchmag of Sept. 7, 1868. ——— THE LION AND THE LAMB. as we pass away, round our sleeping Dad Tully folded the newspaper, bit the tip off a cigar and spat it out with unnecessary vehemence. Thereafter, for several minutes, he sat gazing off toward the distant blue foot-hills be- yond which Mt. Shasta lifted its head hoary with eternal snow. “Seems to me,’ he complained pres- ently, “that the peak of Shasta js about the only pure thing a feller can gaze on these days.” “Now what’s run up your back, Dad?” I queried. / “Humans,” he replied. “All my life been one of these fellers that love human beings, but the older I grow the more I hate humanity. These European nations—they’re just one reeking mass of ingratitude, and that’s something that'd anger a sheep. 1 get tired reading about Un- cle Shylock.” “Well, have you ever found that gratitude is a comomn characteristic of the human race?” I queried. “Yes, 1 have—up to the p’int where it began to hurt to pay the note, and then most generally they wanted a rebate and if they couldn’t get it they took it and sacrificed a friendship, Still I've had some pretty fine neigh- bors from time to time, although if I've got to be fair I must admit that the most appreciative folks I ever met up with was Chinamen and from which I judge that our modern civilization ain't much for building of character, “Take this heathen Zing o’ Mine, for instance. The first time Zing and I meet up, Zing’s in the middle of Fall deep, and Zing’s gone down for .the first time. He's too far out for me to drop my rope over his head and snake him ashore, so I swim my horse in and rescue the critter, I’d have done the same for a cur dog; there wasn’t no danger to me. Just a mere matter of being obligin’, “Yet Zing elects to feel under obli- gation to me the rest of his natural life. It sems the Chinese got a theo- ry that if a feller saves a life, that life belongs to the feller that saves it, so right off, as soon as T spill the water out of him, Zing quits a good job to come to work for me at less wages. I got him vet. I can’t get shet of the heathen and he runs me and my house ragged.” I reckon { old Dad continued) I only vi : past favors. I'm running a fajr-sized little cow outfit in the Texas Pan- has managed West of the Pecos. We've Ing horse thieves and cattle rustlers when Nl as eager on the clean-up as he might be, a deputation of prominent citizens waits on him and gives him twenty-four hours to resign. Dan Roscoe’s willing little hombre, maybe five feet } For al] that, he’s right mas- culine and never seems to get tired. I've known him to ride three three- quarter thoroughbreds to death—thir- ty-six hours in the saddle without sleep or food—and at Journey light on hig man like an apple Topping off a tree, coe used some intelligence in selecting his deputies, e have another half-portion in an Roscoe and fat cattle sort of stirs up the sleepin’ memories of his race. While our Hebrew breth- ren were the first to invent interest and popularize the renewal of notes provided the security remained intact, still, we know that the majority of . | &ot a fighting chance. wondering hither and yon with their flocks. So, acting on this prehistoric hunch, ° Mendel’s father opens a little general store in Dos Rios and pProspers might- ily during the next thirty years. He's one of the nicest, squarest little men that ever come to the Panhandle. He’s guide, philosopher and friend; he loans money on cattle in bad years and many a loan he writes off to prof- it and loss owing to the fact that he’s so plumb gentle-hearted he prefers to jolt himself rather than ruin some friend that can’t afford it. He’s lib- eral with credit at his store too. He’s popular, : I reckon maybe he stirs up some sentiments of gratitude among his Gentile trade, for when his son Men- del comes back from college with a lawyer's sheepskin and hangs out his shingle in Dos Rios, Mendel gets the trade of the cattle industry, even if our trade is all we can afford to give him when he asks for a retainer. Mendel’s a chip off the old block, so when he runs for district attorney he’s stampeded into office. ings are so bad in the district at- torney’s office before we kick Mendel Silverberg’s predecessor out that we're all seriously considering return- ing to the ancient doctrine of personal responsibility. There’s been a revival of cattle rustling, murder and other objectionable crimes. Right off Men- del convenes a grand jury and before the indictments can be written np there’s a cloud of dust to the north where a lot of undesirables are head- ed for Kansas. That boy sure proves himself a friend to the cattle industry and there’s a reason for this, too, because old man Silverberg’s the owner of the Broken Arrow outfit and is run- ning up to a hundred thousand head, dividing his time between the ranch and his store in Dos Rios. I never knew him to fork a horse, though. He preferred a buckboard and a pole team and Mendel is like him that way, too, only more so. In fact, Men- del can’t even work up an interest in cows. The law’s his mistress, Come to think of it, he had his eye on Congress in them days I reckon. Well, Sir, at the height of his suc- cess as district attorney Mendel Sil- verberg has an unfortunate exper- ience. He falls in love with the only daughter of Dennis Cosgrave, a wild Irishman who comes out to Texas in the early days for the good of Ire- land generally. Dennis come from the Irish gentility but breeds back 10 the days when the Irish used to win all their wars, When he was thirty a girl in San Antonio decided to reform him, so she married Dennis and bore him a daughter. At fifty Dennis drops into his title and a fortune, so he comes out to the Panhandle and buys out old ma Sil- verberg’s Broken Arrow outfit. Nat- uraly young Mendel looked after the legal angles of the deal for his father and while doing so he meets Sheila Cosgrave. Now, Mendel wasn’t the first man to be attacked by heart disease after one look at Sheila. Nor was he the first Jew to cast a covetous eye on a Gentile. In fact like so many of his race who marry off the reservation, he had .a weakness for the Irish. Publia:. opinion’s divided as to the advisability of Mendel’s action in let- ting it be known to al] and sundry that he’s out to win Sheila Cosgrave; he’s a good-looking boy and beauti- fully educated. He’s even studied music and can make a piano talk; he has nice manners and a most engag- ing way with him; he’s witty, he has brains and he’s an up-and-coming cit- izen without a mark against him. But he’s got one bad drawback. He can’t ride a horse and he won’t learn. My private opinion is that Mendel’s afraid of horses. Anyhow, who ever met up with a Jewish cowboy ? And Sheila’s Irish blood runs true to form. She's a horse-woman, net, and the champion female rough rider of the Texas Panhandle. Sheila’s idea of a good time is to break horses. She’s five foot ten and weighs a hun- dred and seventy-five, while Mendel rises five foot three and weighs a hun- dred and eighteen. I reckon if he’ been a big hombre and liked horses he’d have worked up a community of interest with Sheila in spite of his other handicap, for I've noticed that true love has a habit of rising super- ior to racial and religious differences. Still, Sheila seems mighty fond of Mendel and lets him come out to the ranch a lot to eat dinner and play the two-thousand-dollar piano. Sheila couldn’t and wouldn’t play on a bet. Such law business as old Dennis has from time to time he throws Mendel’s Way, too, so it looks as if the boys’ In fact, bets are being laid at even money that endel carries off the blushing bride with old Dennis Cosgrave’s blessing, when Mendel’s old man gets on to the racket. Old Silverberg’s what you call a patriarch. Orthodox. He knows the Talmud from cover to more money than most folks haye hay, he’s proud of his people and proud of his boy and he sort of ob- Jects to this here prevalent idea that it’s a come-down for a Cosgrave to marry a Silverberg. He has a notion he’d rather have one of his own peo- ple ‘for a daughter-in-law anyhow, and, in fact, he has the girl picked out for Mendel. He's trying hard to give Mendel the rush into matrimony and scoffs at the thought of the absence of love being a bar to the nuptials. He points out to Mendel that his, old Silverberg’s father picked out Mendel’s for him— and see what a successful marriage that was! But Mendel won't listen to his old man worth a cent, so the patriarch takes the matter up with Dennis Cosgrave one day in the store. Of course Dennis flew off the han- dle. In some ways he wasn’t too in- telligent and when he come to town he generally dipped his nose in squir- rel whiskey. So he hooted at the idea of Mendel mating with his Sheila and said things that offended old Silver- berg. Yes, he said aplenty. Trust him for that, So old Silverberg ordered ‘Mendel to forget about going out to the Brok- en Arrow ranch in the future under - willing in the will. The old man’s to lay off selecting Mendel’s life partner for him if the boy seri- ously objects, but he stands ‘pat on his repugnance to mixing the blood of patriarchs with that of a Celtic tribe all beef and no brains or manners, Well, Mendel’s maybe the butt end of a month wondering exactly what he’s going to do about it. Then one day Sheila Cosgrave rides into town and it so happens that as she passes the livery stable there's a passel of cut off { men out in the adjoining corral fixing to hitch a couple of wild broom.-tajl- to a breaking cart. The livery stable proprietor, which he’s one of the horse-handlers present, sees Miss Sheila and sings out: “Here’s a couple of broncos that'd give you a run for your money, iss Cosgrave.” “I’ve broken worse and made ‘em like it,” says Sheila. “I'll bet you couldn’t stay in this breaking cart ten minutes with these critters hitched to it.” “How much will you bet?” says Sheila. The livery man said he'd bet a hun- dred, so Sheila says if he’ll make it two hundred, at even money, she’ll guarantee to drive them mustangs up the main street of Dos Rios, turn ’em and drive back into the corral with ‘em. “Just give me a couple of cor- ral hounds to help me get ’em hitch- ed,” she says; “then open wide the : gate and watch my smoke.” j The bet’s made. They blindfolded | the brones and hitch em. Sheila gets ' into the breaking cart—which the pole’s so long and the nags hitched so far out on it they can’t kick over the dash board—and gathers up the reins. The livery man opens ihe gate. i | “Drag off the blindfolds,” yells Sheila. | She circles that big corral a few | times at sixty miles an hour, giving ' her team some slight education with the bit; then she heads them out through the gate, turns on one wheel and goes down the main street of | Dos Rios in standing jumps. And the | first man to see her coming is Mende] | Silverberg! “Carajo!” says Mendel and turns whiter’n paper, for he’s certain he's going to see Sheila killed before his | eyes. And since his five-foot-three | of gentleness covers just five-foot three of read sand, Hendel runs out | into the street and tears after that cart with the speed of two antelopes. Sheila is standing up in the break- ing cart with both hands wrapped around the reins, pulling for every ounce of the hundred and seventy-five pounds in her but not making much | of a success of her job. She’s check- | ed the speed of the runaways about | half and isn’t a bit excited, but her ! arms is aching and she figures to let | them mustangs run themselves rag- experience that | them tired horses will listen to rea- | son. i Mendel sprints most two hundred yards, with the whole town looking on ! and yelling like mad, before he man- | ages a on the little iron railing | that run around the seat of that cart. Then he got jerked along, half on the ground and half in the air, for fifty yards more, until Sheila gives her | team a jerk that brings them up in! the air, pawing. That's Mendel’s | chance; he leaps and lands belly down on the seat, wriggles into the cart— and makes a wild grab for the reins. Yes, he’s going to save his darling | Sheila. Poor little Mendel. A whole : lot he don’t know about breaking | horses! His spirit is heroic but the | flesh is weak and nobody knows it bet. | ter than Sheila; and she don’t need no | blue-print to tell her what'll happen if Mendel don’t let go those reins. | ere’s going to be a glorious smash- | up among the buckboards tied at the | itching ~ posts in the front of the | stores, and Sheila loves life just | enough not to yearn to provide the | materials for a needless funeral, “Let go, Mendel darling!” ghe yells. “I'm ai right. These here | nags are duck soup for me, You in- | terfere and you'll cost me two hun- | dred dollars and maybe a doctor’s bill —maybe an undertaker’s bill.” : But Mendel’s gone bog wild. He won't let go. The strain is off the mustangs’ mouths now and all on Sheila. Her and Mendel’s tugging at a foot of reins like two pups on an! old sock, so Sheila, seeing there ain't . but one thing to do split second in which to do that, | raises her mighty right an crashes a : bunch of fives home on little Mendel | Silverberg’s jaw. Naturally Mende] let go the reins. | Bigger men than him would have let go. He crumples up in the bed of the cart and lies quiet, for he’s out with- out any necesity for counting ten ov- er him! Then" Sheila gives her at- | tention to the other matter in hand and the whole wild outfit disappears from our ken, as the poet says, in a cover, he’s got | cloud of dust far out on the pairie, In about an hour Sheila comes jog- ging back through the town. Her brones which started out a light bay are now roan with sweat and dust; their heads are hanging and they drag their feet like they had corns. Sheila is standing up in the cart lift- ing ’em with the whip occasionally just to let ’em know who's boss, and Mendel Silverberg is nowhere in sight. Inquiry develops the fact that Sheila, boilin’ mad at his unnatural interfer- ence, has dropped him three miles out on the prairie, allowing he’d ought to be made to walk home for his sins. Mendel waits until dark to make his appearance and I regret to relate that when he shows up his right jaw is broke. So’s his aspirations to enter the Cosgrave family via the bonds of holy wedlock. Old Silverberg’s so happy he sets up the drinks for the town, and although Mendel has our | admiration for his courage and our ! condemnation for his lack of judg, | ment, he also has our profound sym- | pathy for his busted jaw. The fact | is he carried .a lump on that jaw all : the rest of his life. i Sheila won her two-hundred-dollar | bet, of course, and to show what a sport she was she had Doe Harms send her Mendel’s bill. She also wrote ‘Every few years I'd look south and ‘walk over to set awhile in | that’s the limit, for you deserve hang- iy ' Sheila the day the jury turned him row outfit, Mendel ?” I ask. FRR on for quite a while until the sheriff sent a new deputy down there tha: wasn’t known locally. Every night he kept his eye on the slaughter- house corrals, and one night four men drove eight head of steers into the corral. In the darkness the deputy and his men closed in on this cheap gang of sneaks thieves and captured three of them. One man escaped. It seems there was just enough starlight for the cor- ral fence to show and the fourth man jumped his horse over it and the Posse swore the animal cleared it with a foot to spare. They fired after the he’d tried to do to her and how the clout on his jaw was plumb necessary to save them both from a worse fate, but while Mendel was too much of a gentleman not to forgive her and join in the laugh on himself, away down in him something else had been busted, and that was his pride. So in the fulness of time old man Silverberg imported a very lovely female specimen of his own people and her and Mendel got married and made a go of it from the start. The bride’s popular and helps increase her husband’s popularity, so presently we elect Mendel county judge. He serves man but didn’t stop him. However, with credit four years and then runs they’d heard him talking and noticed for Congress. However, the voters that he stuttered some. figure they need Mendel at home worse than he’s needed in Congress, so they defeat him, and he sticks on that bench for the next twenty years and never has a decision reversed on him. No, naturally I don’t stick in the Panhandle that long. I kept moving. So they went looking for 3 man who rode a jumping horse and stut- tered. Sheila’s boy rode a descendant of the Irish hunters his wild grand- father had imported thirty years be- fore—and he stuttered. When they found the horse the animal had a crease across the point of his right rump. Looked like it might have been made by a pistol bullet, Sheila’s boy swore the animal had ripped itself on 2 projecting nail in the rear of the barn and showed the see a cloud of dust on the horizon, and I knew it wag sheep. So Id move on. But one day about ten years ago I wandered back to Dos e reg Rios. There wasn’t many of the old nail with some blood and horsehair on faces left, but Mendel Silverberg was it. He swore he'd gone to bed at holding court and I knew he’d remem- eight o’clock that night and his moth- ber me and be glad to see me, so I er and the hired girl swore it, too. He his court, hadn’t been identified by the officers figuring to have a visit with him in of the law and the three men caught chambers. With the stolen steers swore the Court was just taking up when I fourth man was not Sheila’s son. found a seat and I stood up with all the other hand, there the rest when Judge Silverberg come of proof that Dennis in. He’d changed a I, Never having close pal of theirs, taken any exercise eyond setting in his library reading, he'd aged beyond ie vies be yeory. = Nas thin, with curly boy, although white hair, and the ex ression on his : fhe fe sk abe mh ut Eby, hon vy ao the kind, benignant face of Christ. woo all in and Sheila and her son sat His eyes rove over the court and there in court lookin ; g up at Mende] smile at Syehody, Pretty soon he Silverberg as he sort of gathered him- hone 1, 2nd beckons me up to the self together to give the jury in- bench to shake hands with him; then structions, I'm here to tell you it was he has me set on the bench with him, one Big Moment. Sheila had got a as a sort of honor to an old-timer. ; ? : “I want you to set right there, Jeb,” ile bie ou git) Jo Jones he says, as wistful as a boy. “I've figure of a woman. Her son was like go.¥ mean Sass to try today and 1I her—big, fiery, good-looking, with need your moral support. But first reckless black eyes, I knew the blood I've got to pass sentence on a feller that was in him and the testimony we convicted yesterday.” : is The sheriff raps for order and the Dt ee ope veithons clerk announces that one James Bow- | : ker is up for sentence on conviction aol, Sheila and of a man-slaughter, ; Bowker is then invited by the Judge to stand up and state if he knows any reason why judgment should not be neighborliness.” Mendel was 4 mite prondunced upon him. The feller embarrassed and in a thoughtful way said he had one very good reason and ici : ; that was that he wasn’t guilty, that © Stroked his jaw whilst seeking the he hadn’t had a fajr trial and was be- Ing railroaded to the pen by a lot of legal crooks. “Bowker,” says Judge Silverberg, ignoring the feller’s outburst, “you have had a fair trial and the evidence was sufficient to have justified a ver- dict of wilful homicide. It is the of this court that you be confined in the state Penitentiary for a period of ten years and I'm sorry nothing but cir- have to notice that unimportant point. At least I judge she noticed it because the tears come in her eyes and I reck- oned her mind went backtracking to that day she'd let a pair of mustangs come between her and a happy mar- riage. Mendel commenced to speak. had a deep, musical voice, and he talk- ed so plain folks could follow him and his ideas with ease, He talked consid- erable about the value of circum- stantial evidence and how it-should be weighed. He reminded them that the deputy sheriff has swore that the He ing. Mr. ner.” Well, there was some delay while the clerk was making out the com- mitment papers so the convicted man did some talking. Mendel Silverberg paid no attention to him. Sheriff, remove the priso- 00 + horse seen jumping the corral that done, jo J man, da 1 night was a dark brown, whereas the ya 0 eo Y Yo stop Wierdimts horse was well known to be a light bay. Nevertheless, in faint starlight a light bay horse would look dark brown. He analyzes all of the evidence, dwelling on those aspects of “Let him blow off steam,” says Mendel, and listened. “Ten years from now, if I'm liv- 2” ing, you says the prisoner, “I'll it that look bad for : . ¢ young Dennis, Some back to Dos Rios and kill you, then outlining the aspects that was in the defendant’s favor and impressing on the jury that they must give ma. ture consideration to these points. Well, son, that sure was a masterly piece of work, that talk to the jury. Mendel was strictly within the law, never wavering his duty as a just judge—and vet it seemed to me he was selling the jury his idea of the case all the time instead of letting them figure it out for themselves. He was bi-planting doubts in their minds, as to their ability to decide such a del- icate case and yet be quite certain they were going to be just to the de- fendant. Wise little Mendel Silverberg! He knew that when a feller is in doubt he says “No!” and takes no chances, so in the wind-up of his instructions he tells them that if they have the slightest doubt as to the guilt of the defendant, it is up to them to give the defendant the benefit of that doubt. The jury retires and Mendel takes me by the arm and we walk around town until the sheriff comes hurrying up to tell him the jury’s ready to re- port. So we go back to the court- Toom and the jury files in and hands the clerk a note which says they find the defendant not guilty. hen the court-room was empty except for Mendel Silverberg, Sheila, her boy and me, Mendel calls the The sheriff closed his foul mouth with a right smart smack and led the feller out. Mendel smiled his childish smile. “Ten years is a long time, Jeb. Lots of them threaten but I've never heard of one of them making good. Mr. Clerk, call the next case.” “The people of the State of Texas versus Dennis Cosgrave Silverberg O’Hara, charged with a felony, to wit cattle stealing,” says the clerk, and I sat up in my chair. 0 Mendel looked at me sort of pitiful. “Sheila Cosgrave’s boy,” he whisper- ed. “She married her father’s second , cousin, another wild imported Irish- man, and named her first-born after old Dennis and me. He’s a devil on horseback but as lovable a boy as ex- ists in the sovereign State of Texas. He’s been keeping bad company and has about broken Sheila’s heart with this last scrape. He has never been charged heretofore with anything ex- cept plain wildness—drunk occasion- ally, gambling, shot a man once but in self-defense, although as I told loose, if young Dennis hadn't been where he should not have been he wouldn’t have had to shoot.” “What happened to the Broken Ar- “Sheila’s husband blew it in for - She bounced him before it was Young feller up to his desk. 3 po however—beat him up and “I Suppose, Dennis,” he says pa- threw him out. She has enough to ternal-like, “you realize you're a lucky young feller.” I don’t quite agree with your Hon- or,” says Dennis, “I wasn’t worried at no time. The jury couldn’t do nothing else on the evidence except turn me loose.” “You are an unthinking young ass, Sir,” says Mendel, and his thin face is whiter'n chalk, “You have robbed me of my honor. You're guilty, you pup, you're a disgrace to a decent mother! Iwas motoring through that town the night you and your friends drove those stolen beeves into the slaughter-house corral. I came py just as you jumped the fence and the deputy sheriff shot at you. You went the street like a streak—and I follow- ed you— you and your light bay horse, with blood streaming down irs rump. live comfortably the remainder of her days if this boy Dennis doesn’t break her. She was in my chambers this morning, pleading with me for the boy— as if I could—why, I'm the judge! I told her so, but she didn’t seem to understand that I must be a just judge. Poor Sheila! The world hasn’t done very well by her.” He turned to the court-room and started his law mill; the prisoner ‘was arraigned and pleaded not guilty; when the court adjourned at five o'clock a jury had been selected and the following morning the trial was renewed. I got the details of the case from the clerk up to the hotel. It seems there'd been a pennyante gang of cow rustlers operating in en : A ou : od be fat, ye They PA “Perhaps your mother really believ- field and drive them to the local | ed you had gone to bed at eight slaughter house, the proprietor of | 0’clock that night—but my opinion is which stood in with these rustlers. that she did what any mother will do The critters would be slaughtered | to save a worthless son. She perjur- that night and skinned and the hides ed herself like a lady! I wasn’t anx- buried. {lous = to investigate your alibi too Of course nobody ean identify a !closely, if the district attorney wasn dressed beef and nobody ever knew |—and I gave you the best of it in my just how many carcasses was kept , charge to the jury. If they'd brought on ice, so this petty larceny had gone 'in a verdict of guilty I would have against Sheila’s on account of its being afte ag, given you a uspended sentence—for your mother’s sake.” He rubbed tue old lump on the jaw that Sheila had busted thirty years before and looked at young Dennis like he’d like to cut him up with an ax. “What are you going to do with your life, Dennis?” he yells all of a sudden, like he’s a mite high-sterical.. “You've stole cattle and made an un- just judge out of an old friend. You’re plumb worthless, and you got. brains enough and character enough to become something worth while.” “I—I don’t know, Sir,” the boy quavers. “Well, I know,” says Mendel Sil- verberg. “You're full of repressed energy. You're wild Irish—the kind that spiles if it can’t do anything elge, What you need is something to do— and if there's danger and adventure: in the doing of it, you'll be interested in your job. Physically, you’re per- fect. You can ride anything that wears hair, you can rope in expert company and if you shoot at anything I'll take the short end of any bet you'll hit it. You belong in the Tex- as Rangers, and if you'll give me your word of honor to 80 straight hereaf- ter, I'll ask the governor to appoint you.” “I'll go straight, Sir,” says young Dennis. “I'm not an ingrate. You're giving me my chance and serve it, Sir.” “Very well, then, you're going to work for a living and quit sponging off your excellent mother. You’l] go down on the border, where you’re not. known, and you'll start from Scratch and make good. Get out of here!” at certainly was 3 curious trial? Well, Dennis “stuck r Mendel got him the appoint- eight oy’s credit. He I do not de- I'll tote Square with you, his home to the court-house, and one morning as he steps out his front gate & man says to him: “Morning Judge Silverberg. I'm back! I'm here to make good what I owe you.” Mendel looks at the man but so » much water hag flowed under the the bridge since he'd sentenced James owker he don’t recognize the feller. “I am not aware,” says the Judge, “that you are under any obligation tome. I do not Seem to know you, my friend.’ “You sent me to the years. I'm Jim Bowker. myself and they let me out. ere now to “Ah, I pen for ten I behaved And I'm keep my Promise, see,” says Mendel. make good your prom- “Oh, not today, Judge,” says Bow- er, grinning like ga mad dog. “I’m going to play with you awhile. You ain’t got the guts of a chicken so I'm suffer some, and I wish you'd wait a week. And if it’s all the came to you, I'll big you a pleasant good morning.” And the little Judge bows most po- lite and trots off down to the court- ouse. Within the hour the sheriff Picks up Jim Bowker ang frisks him for deadly weapons, but finding none on him he has to tury him loose. Im- mediately the district attorney swears out an insanity warrant against Bow- ker and he’s took into custody and tried for his sanity in Judge Silver- berg’s court a week later. There’s all kinds of experts on hand to prove him insane, but there ain’t a single ex- pert on hand to prove this here Jim Bowker is sane! Mendel, being a just judge, notices this deficiency, so he tells Bowker to hire the best brains in Texas to de- fend him and Prove him sane, and send the bill to him. So Bowker done that and Mendel fines him sane and turns him loose. And the next morn- ing the skunk picks the Judge up at his house and follows him down the street, cursing and abusing him at every step, but just loud enough so the Judge can hear him and nobody else. Bowker ain't figuring on being sent up for six months for disturbing For a month that thing kept up. Every morning Bowker picks the Judge up in front of his house and follows him down-town, In the after- noon he picks the Judge up at the court house and follows him home; when opportunity offers he curses him, Does the Judge pack a gun? He don’t. He’s not familiar with guns. They’re like horses to him. He daun’t understand them and he’s afraid ‘ of them. The sheriff urges him to have a body-guard and he does, Right off Bowker disappears for a month and the body-guard lays off. And the next morning Bowker’s back on the job again. I reckon that feller Bowker was a pretty smart man. He knew the Judge had a perfect right, in view of the threats to kill him made by Bowker, to tunnel the skunk on sight. But he knew, also that little, mild, kindly gentle-hearted Mendel just didn’t have guts to do it. They’d frisked Bowker so often and failed to find a weapon on him that if the Judge had wafted him hence his political ene- mies would say he'd killed an un- armed man. Friends of the Judge tried hard to pick a fight with Bow- ker so’s they could kill him on gen- eral principles, but he was too slick for them. He was enjoying breaking down the Judge's morale, as the fel- ler says, and he didn’t figure on los- ing any of that enjoyment, The Judge begun to break finally. He lost weight. He couldn’t sleep. He was plumb nervous and he got dyspepsia. Each morning he stepped out of his house to walk to the court house he expected would be his last, but—he never missed that morning walk. Mendel Silverberg had a sort of courage a fighting man ain’t got. (Continued on page 7, Col 1.)
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers