"Then Judge D——, with still more bitterness, said:
"'That is like you. You try cases for nothing and cheat good lawyers out of their fees.'
"With a look of unfeigned astonishment the other lawyer said:
"'Well, what are you angry about? How does that interfere with you?'"
Here Brewster, who had been reading, laid down his book and said:
"I heard of a case as I came through Salt Lake City some years ago, which, if not particularly humorous, revealed wonderful presence of mind on the part of the presiding judge. It may be the story is not true, but it was told in Salt Lake City as one very liable to be true.
"A miner, who had been working a placer claim in the hills all summer—so the story ran—and who had been his own cook, barber, chambermaid and tailor, came down to Salt Lake City to see the sights and purchase supplies. He had dough in his whiskers, grease upon his overalls, pine twigs in his hair, and altogether did not present the appearance of a dancing master or a millionaire. Hardly had he reached the city when he thought it necessary to take something in order to 'brace up.' One drink gave him courage to take another, and in forty minutes he was dead drunk on the sidewalk.
"The police picked him up and tossed him into a cell in the jail, disdaining to search him, so abject seemed his condition.
"Next morning he was brought before the Police Judge and the charge of D. D. was preferred against him.
"'You are fined ten dollars, sir,' was the brief sentence of the Court. The man unbuttoned two pairs of overalls and from some inner recess of his garments produced a roll of greenbacks as big as a man's fist. It was a trying moment for the Judge, but his presence of mind did not fail him. He raised up from his seat, leaned one elbow on his desk and, as if in continuation of what he had already said, thundered out: 'And one hundred dollars for contempt of court.'