Waterbury evening Democrat., 1905-02-27
The Judge'sSon By RICHARD s. GRAVES.
ICAJAH BOLEAN had been a justice of the peace many years,

l NI 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 8 cripple. Year after year his name was on the ballots at every election and he was not op. l posed after the first year.
 l Another man had made the race against him the first time he was can didate for the office. and 1t was said that his opponent did not receive sin gle vote. No other candidate for the l place could be found after that, and I nobody but Micajah Bolean wanted the office.
 "He knows nothing but justice" the strangers used to be told. He sent his own boy to jail once. and the ungrate- full little wretch ran away from home and never came back"
 The office of the justice of the peace was over grocery store and his home was on quiet street where his wife, a sad faced woman with streaks of gray in her brown hair, busted herself all day with her household duties. It 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- 1 cially when he had once turned 1t 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 flrmness 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 if his father sent him to jail he would leave home and never return. and the threat had some bearing on the case. It 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 er- gued with himself and tried to justify his action. Tn the office of the justice of the peace there was an old table filtered with books and papers. and over all the dust of years had settled. When law suit was tried there at long intervals, the dust vas 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 a little by some one slipping a sheet of foolscap out to make memor- andum. On the table was copy of the revised statutes with one of the covers torn of and many of the pages missing In the corner stood the stove. from which '. the ashes leaked the whole year through, In summer 1t was the receptacle tor trash. and the lower section was always a spittoon.
 The bench was represented by the long table, behind which the justice sat. and in front of him had been cleared smal! space among the aged. dust-covered papers.
 In the pigeon holes of the tall case that stood against the wall were papers that human eyes had not seen for 20 years-parts of the record in forgotten law suits. and unpaid fee bills of cases in which the litigants were long since dead. The window shades were frayed at the lower end and could not be moved tip or down.. When it was desired to keep the sunlight out. newspapers were pinned across the windows.
 It was in the old wall case. among the papers that had been touched and turned yellow by the hand of time, that Micajah Bolean found. while searching one day for lost document. the picture of 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 a moment he stood there unmove0, sustained by the firmness that had been his lifelong pride. Somebody opened the door as he feil to the floor, utteriLg a hoarse cry like an animal that had been given death wound. and with the picture clasped in his hand.
 [. IL was picture Of the boy he had sent to jail-a boy with laughing blue eyes and hair that curlai about his forehead.
 The home in which Micajah Bolean lived was a great contrast to his dingy office. for it was clser and as free from dust as tie willin,: hands of his wife could make it. TrEes grew around it and vines covered iae long porch. The street in front and the alley in the rear ended abruptly a few yards ava. in 3 steep embankment. over which the tops of freight cars moving to ard fro and the long freight trains passing through the yards could be seeu. Weeds grew in the street in front of the house and the alley in the rear was oyerrun With them, for the tvo i:,..E,yhfares were seldCr travelled. Tue shrieks of the engines at work in the yards could be hearc all day and all right. ard the rattle of the iaagling cars. as heavy as thunder at first. and graGually 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 time. watching the tops of the cars and scan- ming the freight trains as they came in The brskemen ran along the tops Of moving trains. twisting brake here and loosening one here, waving their arms