Rensselaer Republican, Volume 15, Number 30, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 April 1883 — HIS LAST COURT. [ARTICLE]

HIS LAST COURT.

A Case of Father and Daughter Appealed from Arkansas to a Higher Court. Ark&nsaw Trrveller. Old Judge Grepson, a Justice of the Peaoe, was never known to smile. He earns to Arkansas years ago, before the “carpet baggers” began their reokless ■way, and year after year, by the will of the voters,he held his'plaoe as magistrate. The lawyers who practiced in his oourt never joked with him, because every one soon learned that the old man never engaged in levity. Every morning, no matter how bad the weather might be,the old man took his place behind the bar which, with his own hands, he had made,and every evening, just at a certain time,he closed his books and went home. No one ever engaged him in private conversation, because he would talk to none. No one ever went to his home, a little cottage among the trees in the city’s outskirts,because he had never shown a disposition to make welcome the visits of those who even lived in the immediate vicinity. His office was not given him through the influence of electioneering, because he never asked any man for his vote. He was first eleoted because, having onoe been summoned in a case of arbitration, he exhibited the executive side of suoh a legal mind that the people nominated and eleoted him. He soon gained the name of 'ffiard justice, ’and every lawyer in Arkansas referred to his decisions. His rulings were never reversed by the higher courts. He showed no sentiment in decisions. He ■toed upon the platform of a law which he made a study, and no man disputed him. Several days ago a woman charged with misdemeanor was arraigned before him. “The old man seems more than ever unsteady,” remarked a lawyer, as the magistrate took his seat. “I don’t see how a man so old can stand the vexations of a oourt much longer.” <( I am not well to-day,” said the Judge, turning to the lawyers, “and any oases you may have you will please dispatch them to the best, and, let me add, quickest of your ability.” Every one saw that the old man was unusually feeble, and no one thought of a scheme to prolong a discussion, for all the lawyers had learned to almost reverence him. “Is this the woman?” asked the Judge. “Who is defending her?” “I have no defense, your Honor)” the woman replied. “In fact, Ido not think that I need any, for I am here to confess

my guilt. No man can defend me,” and she looked at the magistrate with a curious gaze. “I have been arrested on a charge of disturbing the peace, and I am willing to submit my case. I am dying of consumption, Judge, and I know that any ruling made by the law can have but little effect on me;” and she ooughed a hollow, vacant cough, end drew around her an old black shawl that she wore. The expre&ion on the faoe of the magistrate remained unchanged, but his eyelids dropped, and he did not raise them when the woman continued: “As I say, uo man can defend me. I am too near that awful approach to pass which we know is everlasting death to soul and to body. Tears ago I was a child of the brightest promise. I lived with my parents in Kentuoky. Wayward and lighthearted, I was the admired of all the gay society of our neighborhood. A man came and professed his love for me. I don’t say this, Judge, to excite your sympathy. I have many, and many a time been drawn before oourts, but I never before spoke of my past life.” She coughed again and

CAUGHT A FLOW OF BLOOD on a handkerchief whioh she ‘pressed to her lips. “X speak of it now because I know that this is the last court on earth before which I will be arraigned. I was 15 years old when I fell in love with the man. My father said he was bad, but I loved him. He oame again and again, and when my father said he should come no more I ran away and m p rried bim. My father said I should never oome home, had always been his pride and loved him so dearly, but he said that I must never again oome to his home —my home, the home of my youth and happiness. How I longed to see him. How I yearned to put my head on his breast. My husband became addicted to drink. He abused me. I wrote to my father, asking him to let me oome home, but the answer that oame was, Tdo not know you!’ My husband died— ye 3, cursed God and died! Homeless and wretched, and with'my little boy, I went out into the world. My child died, and I bowed down over a pauper’s grave and wept. I wrote to my father again, but he answered: ‘I know not those who disobey my oommandments.’ I turned away from that letter hardened. I embraced sin. I rushed madly into vice. I spurned my teach ings. I was time and ti xe again arrested. Now lam here.” Several lawyers rushed forward. A crimson tide flowed from her lips. They leaned her lifeless head back against the chair. The old magistrate had not raised his eyes. “Great God!” said a lawyer, “he is dead.” The woman was his daughter.