River Falls journal. [volume] (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1872-2019, 1905-02-09
The Judge'sSOn
By RICHARD S. GRAVES.
mn ICAJAH BoLEAN had been a

wi justice OF the peace many years,
and nobody had ever questioned his
right to hold the office the remainder
of his life, for he was a cripple. Year
after year his name was on the ballots
at every election and he was not OPP
posed after the first year.
Another man had made the race
against him the first time he was can
didate for the office. and it was said
that his opponent di' not receive a sim
gle vote. No other candidate for the
place could be found after that, and
nobody but Micajah Bolean wanted the
Office.
He .lnows nothing but justice" the
strangers used to be told. HE sent his
own boy to jail once, and the migrate
full little wretch ran away from home
and never came back"
The office Of the justice of the peace
was over a grocery store and his home
was on a quiet street where his wife,
a sad faced woman with streakS or
gray in her brown hair, busted herself
all day with her household duties. 1t
was plain that some great sorrow had
befallen her at some time in her life.
There was no trace Of sorrow on the
face of the justice of the peace, espe-
cially when he had once turned IT IN
the direction Of his home. He had al
ways said that he knew right from
wrong. and when he stated that any
thing was right nothing on earth could
change him. He was as firm as a rock.
He had been firm the day he sentenced
his own son to jail, and that firmness
was with him still.
The boy had contended that he was
innocent Of the charge against him
that he had been fighting in self-de-
fense-but the firm old magistrate be-
lieved the evidence of other witnesses
| and would not listen to him. He had
made up his mind and refused to
change it. The boy threatened that IL
| his father sent him to jail he would
| leave home and never return, and the
| threat had some bearing on the case.
1t was true that he had been a good
boy and gave promise of being good
man. Even his stern father was forced
to make that admission when he ar
gned with himself and tried to justify
| his action.
/ In the office of the justice of the
Deace there was an old table Uttered
with books and papers, and over all the
dust of years had settled. When law
suit was tried there at long intervals,
the dust --as brushed away by the use
! that was made of the tables, but the
books and papers were not disturbed.
The edges OF the papers were frayed
and ragged, and they were all yellow
with age. Sometimes the pile was
moved little by some one slipping a
sheet of foolscap out to make memoir
andum. On the table was copy OF the
revised statutes with one OF the covers
| torn off and many of the pages missing.
! In the corner stood the stove, from which
| the ashes leaked the whole year through.
In summer it was the receptacle for
| trash, and the lower section was always
q spittoon.
The bench was represented by the long
| table, behind which the justice sat, and
| in front of him had been cleared a SINAI!
space among the aged, dust-coVered
| papers.
In the pigeon holes Of the tan case
| that stood against the wall were papers
! that human eyes had not seen for 2C
years-parts of the record in forgotten
| law suits, and unpaid fee bills of cases
| in which the Iitigants were long since
dead. The window shades were frayed at
| the lower end and could not be moved up
or down. When it was desired to keep
the sunlight out, newspapers were
pinned across the windows.
1t was in the old wall case, among the
papers that had been touched and turned
yellow BY the nd of time, that Micajah
Bolean found, while searching one day
for lost document, the picture Of a boy.
He looked at it curiously at first, for his
sight was dim and he did not recognize
it. Then he turned it toward the light
and pushed his spectacles up on his
nose.
For moment he stood there unmoved,
sustained by the firmness that had been
his lifelong pride. Somebody opened
the door as he fell to the floor, uttering
a hoarse cry, like an animal that had
DGpn given d uSdlu NOuuu, anu Will Tie
picture clasped in his hand.
1t was picture of the boy he had sent
to jail--a boy with laughing blue eyes
and hair that curled about his forehead.
The home in which Micajah Bolean
lived was a great contrast to his dingy
Office, for it was clean and as free from
dust as the willing hands of his wife
could make it. Trees grew around it
and vines covered the long porch. The
street in front and the alley in the rear
ended abruptly a few yards away in a
steep embankment, over which the tops
of freight cars moving to and fro and the
long freight trains passing through the
yards could be seen. Weeds grew in
the street in front of the house and the
alley in the rear was overrun with them,
for the two thoroughfares were seldom
travelled. The sbrieks of the engines
at work in the yards could be heard ali
day and all night and the rattle of the
| jangling cars, as heavy as thunder at
first, and gradually dying away down
the tracks, was a familiar sound in the
| little house on the hill. The wife Of the
| magistrate sat there hours at a time,
watching the tops of the cars and scan