Lippincotts Magazine of Popular Literature and Science | Page 3

will desert an almost assured
success to join the horde rushing toward some unexplored district,
impelled by the ever-flying rumors of untold wealth just brought to
light. The golden goal this season is the great Gunnison Country; and
soon trains of burros, packed with pick and shovel, tent and provisions,
will be climbing the Range.
Pueblo has likewise its business-men, its men of to-day, who manage
its banks, who buy and sell and get gain as they might do in any
well-ordered city, though, truth to tell, there are very few of them who
do not sooner or later catch the prevailing infection--a part of whose
assets is not represented by some "prospect" away up in the mountains
or frisking about the Plains in herds of cattle and sheep. But perhaps the
most curiously-original character in all the town is Judge Allen A.

Bradford, of whose wonderful memory the following good story is told:
Years ago he, with a party of officers, was at the house of Colonel
Boone, down the river. While engaged in playing "pitch-trump," of
which the judge was very fond--and in fact the only game of cards with
which he was acquainted--a messenger rushed in announcing that a
lady had fallen from her horse and was doubtless much injured. The
players left their cards and ran to render assistance, and the game thus
broken up was not resumed. Some two years later the same parties
found themselves together again, and "pitch-trump" was proposed. To
the astonishment of all, the judge informed them how the score stood
when they had so hurriedly left the game, and with the utmost gravity
insisted that it be continued from that point!
On a bright sunny morning we sought out the judge's office, only to
learn that he had not yet for the day exchanged the pleasures of rural
life across the Fontaine for less romantic devotions at the shrine of the
stern goddess. Later we were informed, upon what seemed credible
authority, that upon the morning in question he was intending to sow
oats. Though cold March still claimed the calendar, and hence such
action on the part of the judge might seem like forcing the season, yet
reflections upon his advanced years caused us to suppress the rising
thought that perhaps some allusions to wild oats might have been
intended. Hence we looked forward to a rare treat--judicial dignity
unbending itself in pastoral pursuits, as in the case of some Roman
magistrate. "A little better'n a mile" was the answer to our interrogatory
as to how far the judge's ranch might be from town; but having upon
many former occasions taken the dimensions of a Colorado mile, we
declined the suggestion to walk and sought some mode of conveyance.
There chanced to be one right at hand, standing patiently by the
wayside and presided over by an ancient colored gentleman. The coach
had been a fine one in its day, but that was long since past, and now its
dashboard, bent out at an angle of forty-five degrees, the faded
trimmings and the rusty, stately occupant of the box formed a complete
and harmonious picture of past grandeur seldom seen in the Far West.
Two dubious-looking bronchos, a bay and a white, completed this
unique equipage, in which we climbed the mesa and then descended
into the valley of the Fontaine. The sable driver was disposed to be
communicative, and ventured various opinions upon current topics. He

had been through the war, and came West fourteen years ago.
"You have had quite an adventurous life," we remarked.
"Why, sah," he returned, "if the history ob my life was wrote up it
would be wuth ten thousand dollars."
While regarding the valuation as somewhat high, we yet regretted our
inability to profit by this unexpected though promising
business-opportunity, and soon our attention was diverted by a glimpse
of the judge's adobe, and that person himself standing by his carriage
and awaiting our by no means rapid approach. He was about to go to
town, and the oats were being sown by an individual of the same
nationality as our driver, to whom the latter addressed such
encouraging remarks as "Git right 'long dere now and sow dat oats.
Don't stand roostin' on de fence all day, like as you had the
consumshing. You look powerful weak. Guess mebbe I'd better come
over dere and show you how."
[Illustration: THE JUDGE.]
Judge Bradford's career has been a chequered one, and it has fallen to
his lot to dispense justice in places and under circumstances as various
as could well be imagined. Born in Maine in 1815, he has lived
successively in Missouri, Iowa, Nebraska and Colorado, and held
almost every position open to the profession of the law. From the
supreme bench of