The Post. (Brule, Okla. Terr.), Vol. 2, No. 42, Ed. 1 Friday, April 5, 1907 Page: 1 of 8
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VOL. II. BRULE, WOODWARD CO. O. T (SEE DATE INSIDE. N0.42
A Serenade.
i li
The winds of the South,
All fragrant with blossom,
Shall fly to your mouth
And steal to your bosom;
The day songs of meadows
Around you shall leap, , , «;j
And melt In cool shadows.
To soothe you to sleep. A*'!'
No song of the grove, •;
No blrdling at nest.
So sweet as your love— jAirlJ
So soft as your breast, A, | )'
No night-moth that flies, ' ?' 1
No honey it sips, j'
So soft as your eyes—
So sweet as your lips.
The winds of the West.
The stars without number.
Still lull you to rest—
Shall soothe you to slumber.
1 he summer around you,
The sunshine above you.
ith gladness surround you—
Dear heart! how I love you!
—American Magazine.
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★A
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MY FIRST CASE {
By J. A. TIFFANY
Copyright, 1P06, by Daily Story Publishing Co.
I had been engaged in the practice
of law for a period longer than I care
to state before I made as much as a
policeman earns. My clients had
been few and my fees still fewer.
As a matter of fact, I had barely
made enough by the actual practice
of the law to pay my office rent and to
purchase the law books that I told
myself I really needed, and I had been
driven to eke out an existence by re-
porting for the law journals, and even
by means less dignified than that.
But, now, I had been fortunate
enough to secure the appointment of
municipal court judge. It was purely
a political appointment; I did not flat-
ter myself with the belief that I had
gained it by reason of any special fit-
ness for the position. There were
fifty lawyers in town possessing no
more conspicuous disability for the of-
fice than myself.
This had been my first day of office,
and there had not been a single case
for trial. It looked as if my experi-
ence as a private practitioner was to
be repeated in my official capacity.
Even the law-breakers and litigants
shunned me.
I was aroused from my meditations
by the sound of footsteps. Somebody
was coming up the stairs.
In a few moments a man’s figure
appeared in the open doorway. He
glanced at me, and then turned and
looked over the banisters, listening.
The man was unmistakably from
the country. He ware ill-fitting clothes
of coarse material; heavy boots and
stubby beard of ginger hue.
A clumsy, ungainly man, apparent-
ly about forty-five years of age, he
advanced toward my desk with
stealthy, nervous step. The fellow
had a hunted look.
“Say, mister,” he said, in a whis-
per, “what will you charge to gee me
off?”
“Off what?” I asked
“Well, I don’t want to tell, but I
suppose I shall have to; it’s all over
town. Please don’t let them take me
to jail, mister.”
“What’s the trouble? What have
you done?” I asked the fellow. ‘‘But,
I may as well warn you, before you
go any further,” I added, remembering
my new appointment, “that I am a
judge, as well as a lawyer.”
“You a judge!” the yokel exclaimed,
in a tone of horror. “Oh, gosh I’ve
run right into the arms of the law,
when I was trying my best to escape.
Please, sir, don’t send me to jail,”
the fellow whined.
“If you are in need of professional
advice, I think you had better eo to
auouici litw omce, ana not ten me
anything about your troubles,” I said.
“No, I think I would rather tell you,
and get it over with. Will you let
me off with a fine, if I make a clean
breast of it, judge? You have a nice
face, mister, and I’d rather tell you,
if you’ll only promise not to send
me to jail.”
“I can’t promise anything,” I an-
swered impatiently. “If you deserve
to go to jail, you’ll no doubt get there,
in time.”
“Oh, don’t say that, mister—for
gei out or nere."
“Oh, but I don’t want to go to no
other lawyers. They’re such robbers,
too. You look honest, mister. Per-
“Say, mister, what will you charge to
get me off?”
God’s sake, don't say that! I am an
orphan, sir—you wouldn’t send an or-
phan to jail?”
“Well, my good man, I have already
advised you to go to some other law-
yer, and take advice. I can’t send
you to jail until you are brought be-
fore me in the ordinary course of
justice.”
“But, I don’t want to go to jail at
all, judge. I didn’t think they would
hold it against me all these years. I
haven’t been in the city in thirty
years and If you’ll only let me go
th
he
sa
pi
ci
A, 111 promise never to come
n.”
n go home, for all I care,” I
< fferently, for the fellow im-
ne more as a fool than as a
but won’t you give me a line
lr ng, to say that I can go free?
N ow much would it cost me to
ft i up nicely between you and me?”
’i afraid you don’t understand,
d man,” I said quietly, for the
' vas so simple and stupid that
1 impossible to get angry with
if there is anything to be fixed
\ ill have to be done in the regu-
rse of justice—in open court.”
I don’t want to be exposed,
he whined—I don’t want to
josed. And I am sure I have
a peaceful, law-abiding man for
the last thirty years. I think they
might have let it drop instead of
bringing it up, after all these years.
Lots of boys have done worse things
than that, and never heard anything
of it.”
“Now, see here, my man,” I said
shaiplj, for the fellow was becoming
tedious, “if you have anything to say
to me, I will listen to it, and treat
it confidentially, so far as I can. But
I advise you to go to some other law-
yer, and ask his advice, if you are in
trouble. But, you must either tell
vour stnrv briefly as you can, or
Sent him clear through the doorway.
haps you’re an orphan, too. Are you
an orphan, judge?” ^
“That’s neither here or there,” I
answered shortly. “Either tell me
your troubles, or go and tell them to
some other lawyer.”
‘ No.” said the man, desperately,
“I’ll make a clean breast of it to you,
judge. You see, mister, when I was a
boy—thirty years ago—I came to the
city one day, in my father’s sleigh;
and while the old man was around
town doing his business, I played
about the stable where he put up his
horse. There was a lot of snow on
the ground, and some of the city boys
began calling me a hayseed, and pelt-
ing me with snowballs. I didn’t like
it not so much the snowballing as
their calling me a hayseed. So I
made some snowballs myself and
shied back at them. Well, just as I
was throwing a'good hard ball at one
of the boys, a policeman came round
the corner, and it knocked off his hat.
I started and ran as hard as I could.
I never stopped till I got to my fath-
er’st farm, away out in the country,
ten miles from here. I laid awake all
that night, expecting that they would
be coming for me; and I’ve been ex-
pecting them ever since. But. as I
had not heard of it in all these years,
I plucked up courage and came in
to-day, thinking it had all blown over.
But I see that I was mistaken. They’re
after me.”
“What makes you think they are
‘after you?’” I asked the fellow.
“There’s notices all over the city,”
the man whined.
“What kind of notices?” I asked.
“I haven’t seen anything of them.”
“Why, one says, ‘Bill posters be-
ware’ and another, ‘Bfll posters will
be prosecuted!’”
“What’s your name?” I asked, as a
light seemed to break in on me in all
this nonsensical tragedy.
“Posters,” the man replied. “Wil-
liam Posters. But they generally call
me Bill—Bill Posters.”
“Ah, I see,” I said, with a sigh of
relief. “And you want to settle this
quietly—without any exposure?”
“Yes, mister, if you will be so kind.
How much will it cost me?”
“Well, this is a case, I am afraid,
that can’t be settled with a fine,” I
said, rising and confronting the vil-
lain. who shrank from me, and cow-
ered near the door^
“You won’t send me to jail, judge?”
he pleaded.
“No va’I! settle it Without that.” I
said. “Just turn rounu.-
As Mr. Posters turned his back on
me, I gave him a good, hearty kick,
that sent him clear through the door-
way.
“Is that all?” he asked, with a bu-
colic smile.
“Yes, that’s all—for the present,”
I replied. “But, if you ever come
near this office again, I’ll give you a
good deal more than that. Now—ske-
daddle, Bill Posters, and get back on
the farm, where you belong.”
Trial Marriages.
Faking a wife for a term is not
a wholly novel idea. It was mooted ir
Lady Mary Wortley Montagu’s dav
and that lively lady's comment was
“Yes; but if a man takes a womar
on lease it ought to be a repairing
lease.” The jest touched the weak
spot in all these suggestions for a
temporary union—that they mean un
fairness to the woman.
Letting Him Down Gently.
Swear off lyin’,” said the oldes,
inhabitant. He hugged the red-ho»
stove in the general store more close
ly. “You boys swear off lyin’ fer a
noo year resolution. I’m 82, I am
an I don’t rec’lect ever hevin’ told i
lie. 1 hat’s all right,” said the bar
her gently. “We wouldn’t expect no
body’s memory, grandpa, to be verj
ac'rate at 82.”
------- '
Wasted Fine Library.
Lord Crawford of England, pres!
dent of the Royal Astronomical sock
ety, has a fine general library, wh
would have been much larger and
grander but for the fact that one of
his ancestors—the premier earl o!
Scotland—disposed of thousands ol
valuable volumes to cheesemen, whe
used their leaves as wrapping paper.
Woman Authority on History.
The late Mary Bateson, of Cam
bridge, England, has been described
as in the front rank of English his
toiical students. She had devoted
herself mainly to research in connec
tion with early English borough law
aud custom and her writings on thes«
subjects are of great value.
In Crowded New York.
Some of the blocks in the tenement
districts of the lower Eeasf side ci
New \ork city are so crowded that .1
t ie beds of the occupants were place' i
on the ground they would entitreiy
cover every inch of it.
Aborigines.
Aborigines, n. Persons of little
worth found incumbering the soil ot
a newly discovered country. They
soon cease to cumber; they fertilize
Ambrose Bierce’s “Cynic’s Word-
book.”
J
v
\V
Other Objections.
“I vrould gladly die for you.”
Her look of hauteur was maintained
despite this plea.
“You are in error,” she replied cold-
ly, “If you think the color of your hair
constitutes my chief objection to
you.”
The good night was brief and soon.
A Red Hot Destiny.
A very small girl had a great dea r
of trouble making her dolly si
straight. Dolly would slide over side
ways and tumble down so often that
the little mother was out of patience
with her china daughter's disobedi
ence. At last she said: “Oh, dolly!
You are just as wicked as you can be
You’ll have to go to the bad place
and you won’t burn dead; you'll liy«
always, an’ just sizzle an’ sizzle.”
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Forster, William. The Post. (Brule, Okla. Terr.), Vol. 2, No. 42, Ed. 1 Friday, April 5, 1907, newspaper, April 5, 1907; Brule, Oklahoma Territory. (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc941729/m1/1/: accessed April 25, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.