who wished could do so, as I have said, without losing caste. Almond saw nothing hampering to the wheels of justice in his drinking, provided he did not drink too much, or alone; if he drank at all, he would do so openly, before all the world. Yet he was no soi fainéant in his rulings; it was generally the opinion among Californians of that day that forms of law were rather a curse than a blessing, at least to this special community.
Moreover, he was equal to the emergency. What he was before he sold peanuts, as I observed, nobody knew, except that he was not a lawyer and had never studied law. But he had somewhere gained experience, had learned to know men and the right and wrong of things, judging from a natural and commonsense standpoint. Says John Morley, writing of George III., "There is nothing more fatal, either in private life or in the larger affairs of state, than for an incompetent man to grasp a principle of action that is too bio- for him." Herein lies the secret of success in any walk in life. Almond grasped the running of a law court as completely as he had grasped the peanut occupation. He was by no means an admirable character, yet he was for that emergency a good judge. He was as full of oaths as Charles Lamb was of puns, and his blasphemy was not of the most refined quality. It is well to note how such a person could place himself in such a position among the intelligent people of California and maintain it, still holding their respect. Yet he was an honest man, and judged equitably between men who were in no humor to be trifled with. Had such not been his character and reputation, the frame school-house would not long have been Judge Almond's courtroom.
The judge was coarse rather than otherwise in his tastes. He used to delight in worrying the poor and pompous attorneys, and after bringing them to grief to laugh at their chagrin. To their displays of eloquence he was profoundly indifferent; their legal
