Thomas County cat. [volume] (Colby, Kan.) 1885-1891, 1889-03-07

| JuuSc.
Eyes. sir. 'Stay''-and fumbled
in my pockets for a scrap of paper
which l kept inside my shirt ''Y0u
fellows all had mothers?"
There was a coarse, loud guffaw,
while one man exclaimed:
''Thet's reg'lar bald-headed, pal.
sled old bluff game, jedge, an guess
it won't wash with this gang!"
But just then tall. broad-shoul-
dered mana stranger-entered the
saloon. He had heard my appeal and
had also heard the rough words of the
miner who had last spoken.
"By the courts leave" said the new
arrival. Il am an old regulator, judge.
and think the young fellow ought to
have his say, whatever it is"
Good" came from the lips of the
judge; "go on, my lad
Il was going to say, judge, that /
have little scrap OF paper here-not
much account, certainly, to any body
but myself; but my dead mother
gave it to me and I've treasured it
about ten years. 1t isn't Scripture,
but it's mighty near it. and couldn't
say any thing more solemnly than
what would say with my right hand
on that page torn from my mothers
hymn-book. Judge. I am innocent! :"
Gentlemen of the jury. what do
you say? Is the prisoner guilty or not
guilty?"
GUILTY." came from a score of
Threats.
Now, was not greatly afraid Of
death. though would have preferred
to live, and anyhow did not particular
ly fancy death by means of hempen
rope. lfelt that l was hardly prepared
to die, for had of late given very little
thought to religion and to the teaching
of my earlier life. So it was not any
morbid and false notion of religion
nor yet the promptings of fear which
led me to make a last request Of my
prosecutors.
Judge" l said. Il should like you
to grant me last request before you
pass sentence. On this scrap of paper
there is a hymn, which I have fancy
to hear sung before you begin business.
Jerry Davis, there, can play and
knows all the church tunes. I'd like
him to play and sing this one. And.
judge, ask the boys that don't want to
hear it to step outside, because I
shouldn't like to see them pOkiug fun
at it.
"Boys. you hear?" said the Judge,
and strangely enough there was alb
solute silence, while not man left the
room.
There was an old piano in that West
ern saloon. used for free-and-easys,
noisy concerts and occasional dances,
though it is doubtful if sacred songs
had ever been played upon it during
its sojOurn at that settlement.
Jerry Davis took the little torn
page, struck chord or two, and then
commenced to sing in his rich tenor
voice:
"There IS fountain filed with blood,
Drawn from Immauuers veins,
And sinners plunged beneath that food
Lose all their guilty stains.
"The dying thief rejoiced to see
That fountain IN his day.
And there may I, though vile as he.
Wash all my sins away"
Somehow, Jerry Davis voice weak
ened and he could not finish the hymn,
which must have been familiar to
many hardened man in that strange
company. AS for me, l was sobbing
viOlently-not 50 much moved by the
words of the hymn as by the sadly
sweet memories which it brought to
me. There was absolute silence fol
several minutes, when the stranger
who had spoken a word in my behalf
walked over to the piano where Davis
sat with his fingers listlessiy resting
on the keyboard. He took the torn
leaf. examined it critically and then
walked over to me. Taking my hand
in his strong grip. he spoke in a loud,
if rather husky voice:
Judge" he said. 81 feel certain
! there is some mistake here, and / ask
for postponement of the proceedings
for further investigation. This lad is
my brother; my name is Phil Kimber-
ly. own the Kimberly claim over
the hill. and am pretty well known
along the Turtle Valley"
1t was indeed my oldest brother.
whom had not seen for sixteen years
That hymn of my mothers had
somehow softened the feelings of the
boys. for they willingly acceded to
Pills request Two days later l was
cleared of all suspicion and became for
a time the most popular man in the
camp.
1t is almost needless to add that I
now treasure with more care than ever
the little scrap of paper upon which is
printed. in old-style type. my mothers
favorite hymn. II. S. Atkinson. in
Detroit Free Press.
| To Get Rid Of Wart
removed formidable wa. from