judges could be assigned to handle temporary congestion without the expense of a permanent judge.

After some delay, 24 new judges were authorized, but in the meantime congestion had increased to a point where there was an excess of 172,000 cases pending and undisposed of on July 1, this year. The new trial judges authorized by Congress just before adjournment are now being appointed, and I want to say here that no man, no matter what his ability may be, will ever be endorsed by the Attorney General unless he is 100 per cent American in every shape and form. For the federal judiciary is the backbone of our government, and in these times of discontent and vicious radicalism, these judges must stand between the constitution and the blind gropings of those who are swayed by violent and unscrupulous leaders.

If we are to be spared domination by organized minorities, then we must proceed in the selection of our judiciary with our eyes open and our vision unclouded by partisan views of principles. In the hands of the federal judiciary rest the treasures of freedom, the liberties of our people, and there can not be too much care exercised in their selection. Temporary officers of the government who serve the people for only a brief period, can of necessity have but a limited share in the upward climb of our country, which it might be said, incidentally, has not yet reached its full development nor attained its maximum of world influence and power.

When the entire list of new Judges is completed, and they get down to work, the congestion in all the courts will be speedily whittled down. But it is not alone in the trial of cases that law enforcement is handicapped. Congress has enacted numerous police laws as well as extended the scope of criminal jurisdiction in interstate commerce. New revenue laws have been passed which have afforded new temptations to the criminally inclined. Smuggling, bootlegging, robbery, forgery, conspiracies in restraint of trade, frauds and corruption exist everywhere and yet federal enforcement officers, with the exception of the customs officers and United States Marshals, are clothed with little more power than a private individual.

It is futile to pass laws without giving the federal government power to enforce them. Although the States possess police powers, the same powers are denied to the federal government. The federal government must have the power to enforce all federal laws, for responsibility without power is indefensible and can only result in disrespect for the law.

HISTORY NOTE

Year-1610-Indians sold Manhattan Island for a case of whiskey. Year 1923-Citizens offer to swap back.

A CONGESTED DOCKET

My lawyer said the case I had

Was strong-it now appears

He must have meant 'twas durable

For it lasted many years.

CRAPS

"Niggah, shoot yoh dollah, and give us a little Ford action."

"Boy, what do you all mean by Ford action?"

"Shake, rattle and roll, niggah; shake, rattle and roll."

SIZED UP

Two negroes meeting one day on the principal negro residential street of Lynchburg, had paused for a friendly chat, when they perceived on the opposite side of the street a flamboyantly buxom negro woman, who was striding along with an air of proud superiority, obliviously conscious of the attention which her physical charms were attracting.

"Jim, who is dat pouter pigeon woman yonder carryin' herself so per tubrunt?"

"Why, dat's Miss Mandy Johnson, down here from Roanoke on a visit to Reverent Morris," Jim replied.

"Well," said Sam, "she sho do present herself, don't she?"

A POSTPONED REPENTANCE

There was a man in Texas who went to a revival meeting and was pressed to repent. He wavered for a time and finally arose and said: "Friends, I want to repent and tell how bad I have been, but I dasn't do it when the grand jury is in session"

"The Lord will forgive," the revivalist shouted.

"Probably he will," answered the sinner, "but he ain't on that grand

jury."

LOOKING FOR HELP

Parson-Poor Mrs. Anderson. It is a hard blow for you to be made a widow, but still there is a comforter for you.

Widow-What is his address?

TRUE TO LIFE

"Jim," she said, as he settled down for a comfortable smoke, "I've got a lot of things I want to talk to you about."

"Good," said her husband, "I'm glad to hear it. Usually you want to talk to me about a lot of things you haven't got!"

JUST IMAGINATION

Sambo: "You know, Rastus, dat every time ah kiss mah wife she close her eyes an' holler!"

A New Orleans lawyer had in his employ a typewriter so lazy as to be utterly worthless.

One day, his patience exhausted, he discharged her.

"Will you give me a character?" asked the lazy one.

The employer sat down to write a non-committal letter. His effort re sulted as follows: "The bearer of this letter has worked for me one week and I am satisfied."

NOT A LIFE READER

It seems there was an old gentleman who imagined he was getting deaf. It bothered him tremendously and he was constantly afraid that some day he wouldn't be able to hear. On a Sunday afternoon, taking a stroll, he sat himself down on a park bench, where somewhat later, a rather seedy old man took a seat alongside. The apprehensive old gentleman saw that the newcomer was talking rapidly. He strained to hear his words, but not a sound could he get. He leaned closer, but still he was unable to hear. He was now convinced that the misfortune of deafness had finally come upon him.

"It has come at last," he groaned aloud to his seat-mate, "not a word that you say can I hear."

The stranger turned in surprise.

"I ain't been talkin'," he replied, "just chewin'."

FAIR ENOUGH

The goose had been carved, and everybody had tasted it. It was excellent. The negro minister, who was the guest of honor, could not restrain his enthusiasm.

"Dat's as fine a goose as I ever set ma teeth in, Brudder Williams," he said to his host. "Whar did you git such a fine goose?"

"Well, now parson," replied the carver of the goosé, exhibiting great dignity and reluctance, "when you preaches a speshul good sermon, I never axes you wha you got it. I hopes you will show de same consideration."

BUSINESS IS PICKING UP

"Rastus," said the judge sternly, "you are found guilty of having stolen two chickens from Mr. Robinson's cook last week. The fine will be five dollars."

Smiling complacently, Rastus approached the clerk of the court and laid a $10 bill on the desk.

"Yassuh, jedge," he said. "So ah gives you 10 bucks which will pay up to an includin' nex' Sattidy night."

A GAMBLER'S LAST ADVENTURE

In the desert mining camp of Rawhide, Nev., in the Spring of 1908, there was spoken over the body of a race-track gambler one of the most eloquent panegyrics that has been heard in this generation. That no more highly finished and impressive eulogy had been pronounced at the bier of any man since the immortal discourse of Robert G. Ingersoll at the grave of his brother, was the opinion of the men who heard it—and there were men in that audience whose opinion was worth while.

The man who delivered the oration was Herman W. Knickerbocker, an itinerant minister of the Gospel, prospector and mine promoter. It was spoken over the body of Riley Grannan, whose meteoric career as a racetrack plunger for years furnished sensations for the newspapers.

The "atmosphere" of the occasion was unique. For an environment there was the bleak, wind-swept desert; for an audience, a motley crowd of adventurers drawn from almost every clime by the lure of gold; for a theme, the life, not of a multi-millionaire dying peacefully and full of honors in a Fifth avenue mansion, but of a "busted" gambler, losing his "last chips" in a miner's shack-and the orator, not an overpaid pastor of a billion-dollar congregation, but an humble wanderer from the fold.

There were many distinct individual types here-men of rare talent, even of genius, others that were ordinary, and some very common. On the whole, however, the camp of Rawhide, at its inception, before the advent of the riffraff of camp followers, contained as fine a body of men as ever foregathered in the West. They represented the true democracy of character which our "higher civilization" has so signally failed to produce in our overgrown cities. Those who live in the artificial atmosphere of a great city cannot realize how much the natural-which are the good— impulses of the race dominate individuals in all the relations of life in our Western mining camps. There the search for gold does not have the demoralizing effect that the frenzy for money-grabbing has in the big cities. There, instead of stifling all the finer sentiments-turning men into selfish beasts-as it does in so many instances in a big town-it has the opposite effect, making them generous, big-souled and humane. There you find all the sterling qualities playing forcefully all the time-divine charity, the greatest thing in the world, and all the good things that grow out of it.

Among the first to be attracted to the camp was Herman W. Knickerbocker. Mr. Knickerbocker was born in Louisiana, the son of an eminent jurist. At the age of twenty-one he was ordained a Methodist minister and became the pastor of a fashionable congregation in New Orleans. He was soon "called" to Trinity M. E. Church in Los Angeles, where he quickly earned a reputation as one of the most eloquent pulpit orators on the Pacific coast. His broad and liberal views proved unacceptable to the leaders of the church, however, and he was tried for heresy, but was acquitted. He then resigned.

When the camp of Rawhide, Nevada, was at the height of its boom, came Riley Grannan, the famous race-track plunger, who opened a gamblinghouse that for a time was the most popular resort in the camp. Here

some of the biggest stakes ever wagered in the West passed over the tables.

Mr. Grannan, who had made and lost several fortunes on the turf, was "dead broke" when he reached Reno on his way to Rawhide. He had spent the winter in San Francisco. When the newspapers began to print the sensational news sent out from Rawhide by the press agents, he saw in these dispatches the name of Nat. C. Goodwin, who was the leading operator in the camp. He learned that George Graham Rice was in Reno with the mine-promoting firm of Nat C. Goodwin & Co. Having known both in his race-track days, he decided to go to Reno and ask them to "stake" him to open a gambling-house in Rawhide.

It is a very common thing in the West for men to stake one another to go into business, particularly when the man asking for a stake has been successful in his line of endeavor. The Tonopah Club of Tonopah had made millions for George Wingfield and his partners. The Northern at Goldfield had made big fortunes for "Tex" Rickard and his associates. What more natural than to believe that a gambling-house in Rawhide, managed by so well-advertised a character as Riley Grannan, would become the most profitable enterprise of its kind in the camp and make a fortune for its owner? It did not take Mr. Grannan long to convince Mr. Goodwin and Mr. Rice that it was good business to stake him and that it was more than likely he would repay them handsomely.

They supplied him with a twenty-thousand-dollar bankroll, taking his notes, without interest, for the amount. First, however, they tried to dissuade him from going to Rawhide. He was just recovering from a long illness and was feeble. They feared he could not stand the rigors of the climate. But he was persistent. He said he could stand any climate "this side of hell." He offered them an interest in the business. They refused to accept it. Their only condition was, "Return the money when you can." The enterprise was not a financial success. From the start Mr. Grannan played in bad luck. His resort was jammed with players day and night, but he was a steady loser.

One cold, stormy night, unheedful of the warnings of friends, Mr. Grannan walked out of his gambling-house, after a six hours' sitting at poker, and "took in the town" without wearing an overcoat. As a result of the exposure he fell an easy victim to the prevailing scourge-pneumonia.

When news of Mr. Gannon's illness reached Reno, late the next night. Mr. Rice rushed a noted physician across the desert one hundred and fifty miles to Rawhide in an automobile, at a cost of five hundred dollars. But the physician's efforts were unavailing. Riley "cashed in."

Whenever a miner died in Rawhide, Mr. Knickerbocker officiated at the funeral. The ceremonies on these occasions, although of the simplest character, were always rendered impressive by his heart-stirring words. Therefore no one in Rawhide was surprised when it was announced that Mr. Knickerbocker would perform the rites over the departed race-track plunger.

Indeed, it was most fitting that Herman W. Knickerbocker should say the last words at the bier of Riley Grannan. The two men, born and reared under such different circumstances and following callings so widely divergent, were yet strangely akin in temperament and experiences.