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Kester, Vaughan, 1869-1911

"The Prodigal Judge"


"Lonely? Well, suppose he ups and lopes out of this?"
"You don't know that nigger," rejoined the sheriff warmly. "He
ain't missed a meal since I had him in custody. Just as regular
as the clock strikes he's at the back door. Good habits--why,
that darky is a lesson to most white folks!"
"I don't care a cuss about that nigger, but what's the use of
building a jail if a body ain't goin' to use it?"
"Well, there's some sense in that," agreed the sheriff.
"There's a whole heap of sense in it!"
"I suggest"--the speaker was a young lawyer from the next county
--"I suggest that a committee be appointed to wait on the nigger
at the steamboat landing and acquaint him with the fact that with
his assistance we wish completely to furnish the jail."
"I protest--" cried the judge. "I protest--" he repeated
vigorously. "Pride of race forbids that I should be a party to
the degradation of the best of civilization! Is your jail to be
christened to its high office by a nigger? Is this to be the
law's apotheosis? No, sir! No nigger is worthy the honor of
being the first prisoner here!" This was a new and striking
idea. The crowd regarded the judge admiringly. Certainly here
was a man of refined feeling.
"That's just the way I feel about it," said the sheriff. "If I'd
athought there was any call for him I wouldn't have let him go
fishing, I'd have kept him about."
"Oh, let the nigger fish--he has powerful luck. What's he usin',
Sheriff; worms or minnies?"
"Worms," said the sheriff shortly.


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