"Called upon at the eleventh hour to fill the place of one well qualified by education, by experience and by a wider and more extended observation than myself in the field of legal reminiscences, I feel some-what the embarrassment of the situation. The Committee showed the highest appreciation of the fitness of things and of persons, when they made my friend, now recreating in the sunny clime of California, their first choice for the pleasing task now, unfortunately for the Association, devolved upon me. It is a case of devolution, not evolution. I possess not that gravity of countenance, nor that dignity of demeanor, nor that solemnity of vocal utterance, so necessary to give full zest even to a well-told tale. My absent friend possesses these qualities in a high degree.
"In every new and sparsely-settled country there is always a closer social intercourse between the Bench and the Bar, and a greater freedom of utterance, than in after-years. When population increases to the dimensions of a Commonwealth, and costly Court Houses are built, there is connected with every Court-room, a sort of 'holy of holies,' from which the Judge emerges in the morning and, after the crier performs his duties, into which he enters at night. This may, and probably does, aid in the dispatch of business, but it operates as an effectual curtailment of that free-and-easy social intercourse which once existed. We rarely see the Judge now except when he is fully clad with judicial thunder. I do not know that I desire a full return of the customs of other days, but I would, if I could, check this tendency to social isolation.
"In those good old days, my absent friend was discussing a motion before his Honor, Judge Greene, involving the question of whether certain alleged facts amounted to fraud. In support of his contention, my friend was reading copious extracts from Browne on the Statute of Frauds. In doing so, he was constantly calling that author's name Brown-e? 'Why do you call that name Brown-e?' asked the Judge. 'It is spelled,' answered our friend, with charming gravity, 'B-r-o-w-n-e; if that is not Brow-ne, I would like to know what it does spell?' 'I spell my name,' said the Judge, 'G-r-e-e-n-e. You would not call me Gree-ne, would you?' 'That depends,' replied our friend, 'on how your Honor decides this motion.' The Judge waived the contempt and joined in a general laugh.
"It is a delicate matter to discuss the qualities, mental and otherwise of a living and honored brother, and I hope to be pardoned for the following: Wit and humor, though distinct, are often confounded. The grave and solemn man is often full of humorous conceptions. He suppresses their utterance sometimes with difficulty. He consumes them in an internal feast of pleasure. It is an exhilerating, but lonely feast. In this there may be a tinge of selfishness; but we will not condemn. But when he opens the mental throttle and allows them to flow forth, they give pleasure to all and continue as a pleasant and fragrant memory. Judge Greene, though not a wit, is full of humor. His description of an 'Inspector afloat,' in an Admiralty case in this then District, in which he contrasted what an Inspector afloat ought to do and see with what this Inspector did not do or see, is an admirable specimen of genuine humor. I believe that it was published at the time, but I presume that only a few of my hearers have ever seen it. It ought to be republished. It is worth preserving. It was possibly this latent trait in the Judge's mental constitution that led to the following scene:
"There was an attorney at Steilacoom, where Court was then held, of the name of Hoover. He was a bright, active young man, but his chirography resembled, in illegibility if not in form, the Egyptian hieroglyphics. He filed for a client an answer to a complaint. The Honorable Frank Clark, attorney for the plaintiff, demurred to it, because it did not state facts sufficient to constitute a defence; in fact, did not state anything; that if it did, it was wholly illegible and past finding out. As soon as Mr. Clark had finished reading his demurrer, the Judge, who prided himself on his ability to read all forms of handwriting, asked Mr. Clark to hand the answer to him, saying that he thought he could read it. It was handed up to the Judge. He read the first line in the body of the answer all right, but utterly broke down on the second line. He scaned the remainder of the answer deliberately and with care, then handed it to Mr. Hoover, asking him to read it; the Judge meantime watching him with an intensified if not admiring gaze. When Mr. Hoover had finished the Court said, 'Mr. Hoover, hold up your hand.' Mr. Hoover did so, and in that solemn position the Court swore Mr. Hoover as to the correctness and truthfulness of his interpretation of that answer. Mr. Hoover has since left the profession of law and gone into the more lucrative business of banking. On account of the unjust criticism sometimes made on my own hand-manual, I feel inclined to treat him kindly.
"There may be a dash of the ego in the following reminiscences, but it will be seen that I was but the incident or subordinate actor, or more the victim, than otherwise.
"While the Third was my Judicial District, I was ordered by the Legislature of 1869 and 1870 to hold Court in the Second as well. The docket at Vancouver, for various causes not necessary for me to mention, had become very much clogged. There were over two hundred cases, civil and criminal, awaiting trial. The Legislature gave me six weeks to clear up that Docket. I went to Vancouver a little out of humor from the imposition of double duties, but with the determination to accomplish the task within the alloted time, if continued and sharp work would do it. I made myself something of a judicial tyrant during that term. I ran Court from eight o'clock in the morning, with evening sessions often extending until twelve o'clock at night. Motions and demurrers were read, and I heard only the party against whom I was inclined to rule on the reading. I took nothing under advisement. I limited the time of address to juries, adjusting the time according to the importance of the case and the character of the rights involved. The local and visiting Bar showed their appreciation of the situation and wasted no needless time in the direct, or cross-examination of witnesses. We finished up our work on the last day of the alloted time, and of all that mass of cases heard and finally determined at that time, not one was taken to the Supreme Court.
"Quite a number of amusing incidents occured that tended to relieve the monotony and lighten the burden of our labors. By your permission, I will relate one.
"A man had been indicted for a grievious assault and battery. The alleged place of the assault was in the woods near the northern limits of the town. The second witness for the prosecution was a school teacher from Washougal. He was a tall and lank man, with high cheek bones, sunken cheek and eyes, and sandy hair. He had about him an air of conscious superiority. After he had been sworn, he advanced to the witness-stand which was directly to my right. Before he took his seat, however, he courteously bowed to me and, with a dignified waive of his hand, saluted the Court. The following was his description of the assault and battery:
"'The prosecuting witness was sitting calmly and sedately on a log, when the prisoner approached with stealthy yet intrepid, steps, until he approximated in close proximity to his person, sir'—The Court interrupted: 'If you can get along without making a stump speech, we will be very much obliged to you.' 'Thank your Honor,' he responded. 'Proceed,' said the Court. 'As I was remarking, the prosecuting witness was sitting calmly and sedately on a log, when the prisoner approached with stealthy, yet intrepid, steps, until he approximated in close proximity to his person, sir, when he reached forth his digits and fastened them in the capillary filaments of the prosecutor's head, and then, with a tremendous jerk, laid him prone and prostrate on the ground; then he lifted his heel high in air and sent it with such force and violence into the countenance of the prosecutor that it has left an impression indelible to this day, sir.' 'That will do,' said the Court; 'You can go.' He arose with a courteous bow to the Court and a wave of his right hand towards the Bar, said: 'Thank your Honor for releasing me from the impertinence of these attorneys.' And he proudly walked out of that court house. The Court surrendered its dignity for a time and joined in the storm of laughter.