Democratic Sentinel, Volume 18, Number 1, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 January 1894 — HIS FIRST OFFICIAL NIGHT. [ARTICLE]

HIS FIRST OFFICIAL NIGHT.

BY W. P. CHAMBERS.

Years ago, when the ambitious city of Weston was simply a village, there lived on the hill beyond the creek a man who divided his time about equally between deer hunting and tilling the few rocky, sterile acres that constituted his farm. This man—George Bently, by name—was a prominent figure in that sparsely-settled region. He was a giant in strength, daring in danger, cool in emergencies and fertile in expedients. Though illiterate, he was by no means uneducated so far as the love of forest aud stream was ooncerned, and his skill in deciphering the volume of human nature was of no mean order. So at thirty-five he was an acknowledged leader among his fellows. About this time a general election occurred, and during the day somebody suggested that George Bently be voted for Justice of the Peace for Weston Beat. The suggestion beiug acted on, that individual returned home about sunset, and with pardonable elation informed his wife that he had been elected a magistrate without opposition. Without giving the matter any consideration, either as to the duties appertaining to the office or his own qualifications for their performance, lie made the necessary bona, and in due time his commission, bearing the great seal of the State, was reoeived, together with a copy of the Code. Now our new official had never uad a law book in his hands before, and he felt somewhat dismayed, but rather important withal, as he surveyed the bulky volume, bound in legal calf. Thrusting his commission into the pocket of his pantaloons, for he had no coat, and taking the huge volume under his arm, he wended his homeward way. If his gait was more staid and his bearing more dignified than usual it was simply because he felt himaelf au exponent, if not a part, of the State, in her sovereign capacity of making and administering laws. As soon as supper was dispatchd he, with the aid of his wife, spelled out the commission, and then taking up the Code he began at the title page. He had got nearly to the end of the report of the Codifying Committee when drowsiness overpowered him, and he began to disrobe for the night. As he was in the act of lying down a loud “hello!” was heard at the yard gate. When the door was opened a voice it) the darkness called out: “Does ‘Squire Bently live here?” “I’m the man,” was the rather pompous reply. “I want a warrant for Jake Jones.” “What’s ho done?” “Him and Pete Brown got into a row at old man nail's house-raising this evenin’ and he knocked Pete down with a handspike, and it looks like he’s guin’ to die.” “All right—come in ” By the time the officer had donned his clothes aud replenished the fire the other man—one John Graham—had entered. Had 'Squire Bently been required to make an astronomical calculation he would not have been more completely at a loss how to proceed. But he felt that his official honor was at stake and so, after a hasty but fruitless search iu the Code for a “form,” he proceeded to bring forth from his inner consciousness the momentous document.

The first difficulty to be surmounted was the fact that there was not a scrap of writing paper in the house. Not anticipating emergencies wherein it would be required, no stationery had been provided for official purposes. Unwilling to be balked, he tore a blank leaf from the back of the Code, and borrowing a pencil—for it was developed that no pen, ink or even a lead pencil belonged to the Bently household—he sat down, and, after infinite pains, produced the following warrant:’ “taik jaik joans G. BENTLY, esq., j. p.” As Mr. Graham received this document, he asked: “Who will serve this warrant?” “You can do it as well as anybody else, can’t you?” “I guess so 1 Where must I take him to?” “Bring him here, of course.” “When?” “At once—oi sooner, if you can find him.” “All right!” and tho Special Constable took his leave. Our officer now retired, but the incident of the warrant had unsettled him somewhat and he vainly courted sleep. After an hour or two of restles tumbling he was about entering dreamland when there was another call at the gate. Going to tbe door he was again met by the inquiry: “Does ’Squire Bently live here?” “Yes; what do you want?” “We want to get marriedl” was the rather hesitating and huskily spoken reply. “Come in!” and again the official hauled on his pantaloons, and out of deference to the occasion a coat was also donned. By this time a very young man and a shrinking maiden had reached the door-step. “Come right in! Take chairs and sit down,” came from the hearth, where our officer was trying to fan the smoking embers into a flame by blowing on them with his breath. When this was accomplished he arose, brushed the dust and ashes off his knees, and, reaching for his law book, demanded: “Are you runaways ?” “Yes, sir.” “What’s your names ?” “Mine is William Wright, this young lady's is Mary Banks.” “Are you a son of John Wright?”

“I xn, •Jr." “And is that one of old Txn Banka’ gala?” “Yes, sir.” “What did you run away forV' “ ’Cause her folks were not willin’ for us to marry.” “Hare you got airy pair of licenser* “Yes, sir, I nave the license. We expected Preacher Gray to marry us, but he wasn’t at home, so we earns to you. Here, sir, is the license.” “Keep ’em, young man, keep ’em. I don’t want ’em! I only axed to see if you had ’em; for it’s agin the laws of the United S'ates to marry in this State without a pair of license. The law only axes if you paid for ’em, aod how much.” As he said this, ’Squire Bentley opened his book very wide and assumed a stern, judicial air. “Yes, sir, the license is paid for, and cost one dollar.” “Where did you get ’em?” “At the oourthouse, of course. If you please, sir, will you proceed?” “You bet I will 1 Hold up your right hands 1” » ° The young couple exchanged glances. If the truth must be told, the requirements of etiquette during the performance of the ceremony had formed an important factor in their conversation since leaving the paternal roof. After » little hesitation both hands went up. “You solemnly swear that you will live together as man and wife, sick or well, and that you will tell the truth, the whole truth and nothin’ but the truth, so help you God! Answer, ‘I do.’ ” “I do,” was the faint response. “I pronounce you husband and wife,and may the Lord have mercy on your souls 1” The astonished couple still sat with uplifted hands, gazing at the Magistrate with open-mouthed wonder. “That’ll do!” said he in a less severe tone. “Is it over?” asked the bride, with a sigh of relief, as she lowered her hand. “I reckon so!” was the rather doubtful response of the groom. “Yes, certainly. You’re hitched as hard and as fast as if the Guv’nor had done it.”

“Huw much do I owe you?” “Not a ceut, younjr man, not a cent,” and then he added, in a semi-confiden-tial tone, “You see, I’m a sorter new beginner, and I hain’t sot my prices yet. Where are yegoin’ to stay till mornin’?” “We expected to go from Mr. Gray’s back to Uncle Bill Wright’s, on Cane Creek; but that’s ten or twelve miles from here. Isn’t there a tavern in town?” “Ye-t—but why not stay here? It won’t oost you a cent, and I ’drother you’d stay.” With a little more urging, they consented ; and while the groom and the ’Squire were out stabling the horses, Mrs. Beutly had arisen and prepared a room for the bride and groom. After a slight repast which the young people really needed (though both stoutly protested against the extra trouble), they were left in possession of the spare room, which had twice served as a law office that night. An hour had passed, and most of the inmates had fallen asleep, when there was another loud “hello!” at the gate. “Who is it now?” asked the master of the house, as he opened the door. “It’s me —here’s your prisoner,” sang out a voice in reply, that evidently belonged to Special Constable Graham. “Who else is with you?” “Jim Hall, and brother Tom.” “All right—come in!” While our hard-worked Magistrate was again dressing himself, his wife suddenly inquired, “Where will you take ’em, George?” This wa9 a poser. The spare room was already occupied, and, worse than all, his lawbook was in there too! Meeting the Constable in the yard he brifly explained the situation. “We can build up a fire out here,” he suggested at last, and the others assenting, the fire was accordingly kindled, and then ’Squire Bently realized that he could proceed no further without his lawbook. Going to the door of the guestchamber, he softly knocked. “What is it?” inquired the groom. . “I want to get my book.” So the young man unfastened the door, nnd held it open till the officer went inside and “felt around” till he laid hands on the coveted-volume. Returning to the yard, he opened court by administering an oath to all present (including the constable and the prisoner) to tell just now it was. The day had been a warm one. As the night wore on, the clouds began to threaten rain, and before the testimony was all in, a heavy shower came up. Thik necessitated an adjournment to shelter—and as the smokehouse was the nearest buildiDg, thither all hands repaired. While waiting for the shower to cease, anther horseman came galloping up. •‘ls ’Squire Bently at home?” “Yes; that’s me!” was the reply. “They want you at Sim’s Mill. There’s a dead woman there, and they want you to hold an inquest.” Further questioning elicited the fact that a negro woman had died very suddenly, and the physician who had been called, deeming the circumstances suspicious, desired an inquest. It was now past midnight, but our officer, feeling that he ought to act promptly in the matter, decided to go at once. But, unfortunately, the two Grahams and Jim Hall all felt called upon to go, too. What to do with the prisoner was the question. Somebody proposed taking him along with them, but the prisoner himself stoutly opposed that plan, but of sered to pledge himself to be on hand whenever wanted. Our Magistrate, actingon the principle that “one bird in the hand is worth two iu the bush,” resolved tomakesureof Jake Jones. So, after bringing a few bundles of fodder from a stack near by, and two or three quilts from the house, he prepared a bed for his prisoner, and locked him up in the smokehouse till his return, and the five men rode away. In the matter of the inquest Dr. Smith assumed entire control. He prepared all the necessary papers, and it was only required of G. Bently, Esq., to set “his hand and seal” to various documents. It. was near 10 o’clock when the ’Squire and his party returned from the inquest. They were all Very drowsy and very hungry. Our officer found a rather unpleasant state of affairs on his arrival at home. As the meal and flour, as well as the bacon, were kept in the smokehouse, and as the door thereof was securely locked and the key safely stored away sis his pocket, none of the family had broken their fast. The bride and groom had gone off apparently happy; the children were fretting; their mother was scolding, iib(J Jake Jones,from the inside of his prison, was indulging in some very loud, very profune and very disparaging remarks. In fact, that individual was only brought into a state of respectable quietude by the court’s oollaring him, giving him a good shaking, and promising to wipe up the ground with him after adjournment. Before this occurred, or even break-

fast was served, Pete Brown rode up. He had concluded not to die; he and Jake made friends and the case was die-: missed. After a hearty breakfast and dinner in one, his visitors departed, leaving ’Sqaire Bently to cogitate over the events of “His First Official Night.” —JLouisville-Courier Journal.