quality of the justice there administered was none of the best, it usually commanded a good price.
An idea struck him. He would start a court and be a judge himself He believed he could make a better thing of it than of peanuts. He would do it. But how? Easy enough. He knew the ringleaders of the Hounds; knew intimately Sam Roberts, St John, and many more of them. He had treated them to peanuts fifty times, and had often talked with them by the hour about politics, raids, gold-mines, and the expulsion of the Chilenos. Then there were his lawyer friends, his court friends, and a host of others; and as he had saved a little money, the thing was not hard to do; and it was done.
Indeed the business of young San Francisco had so increased, and was still so rapidly growing, that the organization of another court, superior to that of the alcalde, seemed a necessity; and backed by his political friends, the peanut merchant with no great difficulty prevailed upon the governor to authorize him to establish such a tribunal.
The peanut peddler was now William B. Almond, Esquire, judge of the court of First Instance, with civil jurisdiction in cases involving sums exceeding one hundred dollars. His court was held in a little shanty, called the old school-house, situated on the southwest corner of the plaza, on the Clay street side, near the Monumental engine-house, while the alcalde still remained at his old quarters near the southeast corner of Washington and Kearny streets fronting the plaza.
The 12th of December, 1849, saw Judge Almond's court open and ready for business. Salary was a thino; unknown at that time among court officials. Judges, sheriffs, clerks, constables, all drew compensation for their services in fees, generally fixed by themselves. Running a court was a speculation, like running a hotel, or a store; it was conducted to make money, and was valued at what it would pay. To
