No man in Western Kentucky stands higher as a citizen, lawyer, or student of literature and history than does Judge Lucius P. Little. In "Ben Hardin, His Times and Contemporaries," published in 1887, he wrote one of the best contributions ever printed bearing on the history of Kentucky from 1784 to 1852. He now has in course of preparation "Old Stories of Green River and Its People," which will appear during 1914. I have read the manuscript, and am confident that this book will take rank as one of the best written and most valuable histories of any of those concerning any section of the State. Judge Little was born in Calhoun February 15, 1838. He was graduated from the Law Department of Cumberland University, Lebanon, Tennessee, in 1857, and in 1868 moved to Owensboro, where he has since resided and where he has long stood at the head of his fellow lawyers. From 1880 to 1893 he served as circuit judge. He is a member of the Investigators' Club (Owensboro's literary and historical club) and the Kentucky State Historical Society. The following sketch was written by Judge Little in 1912, especially for this history.

The custom of the old-time lawyers in Kentucky of "riding the circuit" was almost coeval with the admission of the State into the Federal Union, and continued to the end of the fifties. After the Civil War ended, the increase of the local bar in numbers and in reputation as practitioners caused the custom gradually to decline.

While the custom was in vogue, on the Sunday before the beginning of a term of court the presiding judge, usually accompanied by the prosecuting attorney and a retinue of lawyers more or less numerous, mounted on horseback, might be seen entering the county town, destined for the principal tavern, not unlike an unarmed troop of cavalry. This might fitly be termed the "grand entry," and following it there quickly gathered about the inn a respectable number of the principal citizens, to greet the distinguished guests. After the first arrivals others followed, in parties of twos or threes or one by one. By nightfall the leading tavern was taxed to its utmost capacity.

The following morning, the first day of the term, the courthouse bell was rung vigorously at eight o'clock, and shortly thereafter the high sheriff proclaimed at the front door to the listening world the thrilling shibboleth, usual on such occasions: "O yez! O yez! The Circuit Court for Muhlenberg County is now in session! Let all persons having business therein draw near and be heard! God save the Commonwealth and this Honorable Court!" (This old preliminary formula has fallen into disuse, and unfortunately a neglected Deity has not always saved the Common wealth from the enemies of law and order or protected the eminent judges who have presided over its courts.)

On entering the court room, all seats inside the bar are largely found already occupied by the unprivileged classes. The sheriff, however, gives the peremptory order that all persons not lawyers and officers of court are requested to retire from the bar, which mandate is quickly obeyed. Persons summoned as jurors and others (ready to be summoned) seek seats in easy earshot of any call of their names. Parties, witnesses, and mere lookers-on soon fill all remaining seats.

The judge has already taken what in legal parlance is "the bench," but which in reality is an easy chair behind a desk, which to the unsophistieated is strikingly like a pulpit. The clerk, sheriff, and jailer betake themseives to their respective posts and to the discharge of their several functions. At last the honorable court is opened in due form, and those having business therein draw near and (as opportunity offers) proceed to make themselves heard.

The particular term of court now to be mentioned occurred in the year 1859, when Honorable Thomas C. Dabney was judge of the district and Ed Campbell prosecuting attorney. The resident attorneys at that time were Charles Eaves, Jonathan Short, Joseph Ricketts, John Chapeze, B. E. Pittman, Edward R. Weir, sr., and Mortimer D. Hay. At the head of this roll, by extent of practice, long experience, and profound learning, easily stood Charles Eaves, then in the full vigor of manhood. The youngest member, familiarly called "Mort" Hay, was tall and slender, with a quick and bright mind, already giving assurance of the talents and ability for which he was subsequently distinguished in a career terminated by an untimely death. The visiting lawyers that term were Honorable B. L. D. Guffy, of Morgantown, who was later to occupy a seat on the Court of Appeals bench; Washington Ewing, of Russellville, sprung of a family distinguished for its talents; H. G. Petree, Samuel Kennedy, and Francis Bristow, from Elkton--and sometimes came also the latter's son Benjamin, physically strong and burly and of striking appearance, but not so widely distinguished then as to cause the subsequent inquiry, "Is there not good presidential timber produced in Elkton?" From the Daviess County bar answered John H. McHenry, sr., and William Anthony, both names very familiar in the region at that day. McLean County was also represented by two young lawyers who, having some business in court that term, were in attendance. One of these was the late William T. Owen, afterward for two terms circuit judge of his district. Each of these had secured two of Culver's best rigs for the trip--not, as it may be well to explain, that they necessarily required two separate conveyances for the thirty miles from Calhoun to Greenville, but because each had had the good fortune to secure as comrade for the journey two of the prettiest girls of that town. It is recalled that, on the bright day they fared forth, the two young gentlemen were arrayed in the height of the fashion of that time, but so clad that they would be a sight to the beholders in these later days. Picture them! Long hair, silk hats, swallow-tail coats, low-cut vests, close-fitting trousers, and low-quarter shoes, with white hose! Neither in that day nor at any time since, in Kentucky, has there ever been any discount on a pretty girl because of her raiment, but on this day these were charmingly gowned.

The weather was faultless, and the long, hot lanes were fewer than now. For the most part the road on either side was bordered by woodland, the scenery and fragrance of which would beggar the language that might attempt to describe it. It is better to forget the exquisite pleasure of such bright days in the dim light of the somberer and quieter ones that came later. The road, at one point, wound by a clearing where the timber had been cut away and the brush placed in piles for burning later. There an incident occurred worthy of note. A blacksnake, technically known as a "racer," six to seven feet in length, was discovered in the road by Owen, who was in advance. His fair companion expressed some girlish alarm, whereupon with becoming gallantry he leaped from the buggy and with whip in hand lashed the "racer" as he fled out through the clearing. After a chase of seventy-five yards the snake hid himself in a brush-pile, and Owen, exhilarated by the exercise, started to return. The snake, encouraged by the retreat of his pursuer, came forth, and with head erect nearly two feet made a good second on the return, although the young man did his best. Turning on the snake again and hitting him whenever in reach, the race out through the clearing was repeated, and the snake again sought refuge and again chased his pursuer. This performance was kept up without variation until four or five heats had been run. Meantime his traveling companion--secure from danger in the buggy--and the occupants of the other vehicle, had laughed and wept and laughed again. But Owen got excessively warm and was fairly outwinded, while the "racer" showed a discouraging degree of "bottom." By finally crawling into his buggy backwards, meanwhile demonstrating with his whip, he managed to terminate the unequal contest. Docet hic fabula if a beau wishes to show his mettle before the fair, he should beware of contests with "racers."

In the soft twilight of the day the journey ended. Having left their traveling companions with expectant friends, the attorneys found lodging at Captain Bob Russell's somewhat overcrowded hotel. The landlord was a large, portly man of fine presence, quite as dignified as any of his distinguished guests, with all of whom he maintained an easy familiarity. He carried a stout walking-cane as he mingled with his lodgers, discharging the duties of hospitality. His colloquial abilities were above the common, and he was not at loss whatever the topie. His stores of incident and anecdote were inexhaustible, and he gave his friends little opportunity for considering whether the accommodations of the house might not be amended in certain directions. He had honorably served his country in war and in peace in former years, and was still a valuable man in that quarter to the political party with which he affiliated.

The hotel building stood near the courthouse. It was a low, two-storied affair, with a few bed-chambers and these in the second story, but each large enough for three or four beds, and each bed was designed to accommodate two persons. The writer recalls that when he awoke at about four o'clock the first morning of his stay in Greenville, he beheld a large, fleshy, elderly man engaged in shaving a large area of fleshy face as with closed eyes he sat ponderously in a chair. (This was before the era of safety razors.)

"Mr. McHenry, how can you shave without a mirror?" inquired the freshly awakened young lawyer.

"I am not in the habit of using a mirror, and can shave just as readily without one," was the answer.

It was fortunate in his case, as our room in this respect was unfurnished, and the single candle in the bedroom shedding a radiance somewhat uncertain. It was also a provident arrangement of nature that morning that all the occupants of our chamber did not care to arise and dress at the same time; that operation was performed in detachments. The limited floor space forbade any other course. There was no ceiling or plaster beneath, and because of this the landlord was enabled with his cane to knock on our floor from time to time, as a warning that breakfast was about ready. All embarrassments were happily overcome, the morning meal dispatched, and the gentlemen of the bar were ready in due time for the opening of court.

One of the important cases to be tried was that of Arch Rutherford, charged with the murder of a man named Stark, in Todd County. After being indicted in Todd the defendant had procured a change of venue to Muhlenberg. The evidence in the case was circumstantial, and while the circumstances had been comparatively few they had been sufficient to lead to the conclusion on the part of the public generally-that the accused was the guilty man, and that his motive had been robbery. A twenty-dollar bill which had been paid to Stark the day before the murder (which had occurred at night) was marked. It was found in possession of Rutherford and identified by the man who had paid it to Stark. The accused owned and was accustomed to ride a horse which, in motion, made a peculiar noise known as "rattling of the sheath." It was in proof at the trial that a horse making this peculiar noise was heard, on the night of the murder, to pass through the town of Elkton from Rutherford's residence, going in the direction of the place where Stark resided, and also that a short time afterward the horse was heard returning going toward defendant's residence. It was also made to appear that, in passing and repassing through town, the horse had been ridden in a gallop, and that next day he showed signs of having been recently hard ridden.

Honorable Francis Bristow was chief counsel for the accused. Mr. Campbell conducted the prosecution. The jury that tried the case returned a verdict of guilty, and sentence of death was pronounced. An appeal was prosecuted, and the judgment was reversed in the Court of Appeals and the case remanded for a new trial. While awaiting another trial the prisoner escaped from jail and was never afterward apprehended. Tradition has it that he fled to Texas, and during a long residence in that State accumulated considerable property and that he died there, but the date of his death is unknown.

At the same term there was also pending a case against S. P. Love, charged with killing Wesley M. Little at South Carrollton on August 16, 1857. The circumstances of the killing were that Love and Little, both residing in South Carrollton, became embroiled in a personal difficulty growing out of polities. Little kept a hotel in the town and was an active local politician. In a public speech he had denounced a statement made by Love as untrue. Early one Sunday morning, shortly afterward, Little, while standing alone in front of his hotel, was instantly killed by a shot in the back, fired by some one in concealment in the second story of a house across the street. Love was arrested and indicted for murder. At the autumn term of 1859 the case was tried, but the jury failed to agree. It was afterward continued from term to term until the outbreak of the Civil War. Love, meantime, joined the Federal army and during the war underwent final trial, which resulted in his acquittal.

Over half a century has gone by since the term of court herein referred to. More pages have been written in American history in that interval than in all the preceding years since Columbus first laid longing eyes on the palm trees of the West Indian island. In very truth old times have passed away, and behold all things are become new.

To one who saw Greenville and its people then, there are many things he would miss if he looked for them now. The portly and dignified landlord of Russell's Tavern has long slept in the silent grave. The small, old-fashioned courthouse has been supplanted by a stately edifice, the architectural graces of which entitle it to be called the Temple of Justice. The gentle Dabney has long since ceased to preside there, but has without fear answered the call of another Judge. Campbell, the prosecutor, is no longer a terror to evildoers, but has received the reward due a just man, and has claimed his right to be heard by that merciful Advocate who pleads for us all. Charles Eaves, when he left this world, took from it a store of legal knowledge possessed but rarely by any lawyer of his day and generation. The amiable, kind-hearted Guffy went through life doing his duty, dispensing good cheer among his friends, and finally meekly bowed his head to the fate that awaits us all. Owen, after marrying the pretty girl who had laughed so merrily at him in his contest with the "racer," rounded out an honorable career, and at its end he and she sleep well the last long sleep. Indeed, all the names here mentioned have long been numbered with the silent hosts who now rest in eternal peace.