Lippincotts Magazine of Popular Literature and Science | Page 4

Colorado he was twice called to represent the
Territory as delegate to Congress. In 1852, when he was judge of the
Sixth Judicial District of Iowa, his eccentricities of character seem to
have reached their full development. He exhibited that supreme
disregard for dress and the various social amenities which not
infrequently betray the superior mind. Never were his clothes known to
fit, being invariably too large or too small, too short or too long. As to
his hair, the external evidences were of a character to disprove the
rumor that he had a brush and comb, while the stubby beard frequently
remained undisturbed upon the judicial chin for several weeks at a time.
The atrocious story is even told that once upon a time, when half
shaven, he chanced to pick up a newspaper, became absorbed in its
contents, forgot to complete his task, and went to court in this most
absurdly unsymmetrical condition. But, despite these personal
eccentricities, a more honest or capable judge has rarely been called
upon to vindicate the majesty of the law. Upon the bench none could

detect a flaw in his assumption of that dignity so intimately associated
in all minds with the judiciary, but, the ermine once laid aside for the
day, he was as jolly and mirthful as any of his frontier companions.
Judge Bradford was no advocate, but by the action of a phenomenal
memory his large head was stored so full of law as to emphasize, to
those who knew him, the curious disproportion between its size and
that of his legs and feet. These latter were of such peculiarly modest
dimensions as to call to mind Goldsmith's well-known lines, though in
this case we must, of necessity, picture admiring frontiersmen standing
round while
Still the wonder grew That two small feet could carry all he knew.
The judge's mind is of the encyclopædical type, and facts and dates are
his especial "strong holt." But his countenance fails to ratify the inward
structure when, pausing from a recital, he gazes upon your reception of
the knowledge conveyed with a kindly smile--a most innocent smile
that acts as a strong disposer to belief. Whether it has been a simple tale
of the early days enlivened with recollections of pitch-trump and other
social joys, or whether the performances of savage Indians and
treacherous half-breeds send a chill through the listener, it is all the
same: at its close the judge's amiable features wear the same
belief-compelling smile. Under its influence we sit for hours while our
entertainer ranges through the stores of his memory, pulling out much
that is dust-covered and ancient, but quickly renovated for our use by
his ready imagination and occasional wit. With a feeling akin to
reverence we listen--a reverence due to one who had turned his face
toward the Rocky Mountains before Colorado had a name, who had
made the perilous journey across the great Plains behind a bull-team,
and who has since been associated with everything concerned in the
welfare and progress of what has now become this great Centennial
State, toward which all eyes are turning. Not without its dark days to
him has passed this pioneer life, and none were more filled with
discouragement than those during which he represented the Territory in
Congress. He describes the position as one of peculiar difficulty--on
one hand the clamors of a people for aid and recognition in their rapid
development of the country, while on the other, to meet them, he found
himself a mere beggar at the doors of Congressional mercy and grace,
voteless and hence powerless. Truly, in the light of his experience, the

office of Territorial delegate is no sinecure.
No one has more closely observed the course of events in the Far West
than Judge Bradford, and his opinions on some disputed points are very
decided and equally clear. Many have wondered that Pueblo, which had
the advantage of first settlement, had long been a rendezvous of
trappers and frontier traders, and lay upon the only road to the then
so-called Pike's Peak mines, that _viâ_ the Arkansas Cañon--that this
outpost, situated thus at the very gateway of the Far West, should have
remained comparatively unimportant, while Denver grew with such
astonishing rapidity. But, in the judge's opinion, it was the war of the
rebellion that turned the scale in favor of the Queen City. The first
emigrants had come through Missouri and up the Arkansas, their
natural route, and as naturally conducting to Pueblo. But when
Missouri and South-eastern Kansas became the scenes of guerrilla
warfare the emigrant who would safely convey himself and family
across the prairies must seek a more northern parallel. Hence, Pueblo
received a check from which it is only now recovering, and Denver an
impetus whose ultimate