I s'pose not! When the wolves was a howling
gentlemen, on the mountings of Oregon, and
the milishy was a fighting of the Injins on
Rogue River, do you think, gentlemen, my
client, Thomas Flinn, Esq., could be guilty o'
hookin'—yes, hookin', gentlemen—that pitiful,
low, mean, hank o' cotting yarn? Onpossible!
Gentlemen, I reckon I know my client, Mr. Thomas
Flinn. He's got the fastest nag, and the
purtiest sister, gentlemen, in all Muddy Creek
and the Big Willamette! That, gentlemen, are
a fact. Yes, gentlemen, that are a fact. You
kin just bet on that, gentlemen. Yes, gentlemen,
you kin jist bet your bones on that!
Now, 'pon honour, gentlemen, do you think he
are guilty? Gentlemen, I reckon—I s'pose not.
"Why, gentlemen" (indignantly, beginning to
believe it himself), "my client, Mr. Thomas
Flinn, am no more guilty of stealin' that aer
hank o' cotting yarn than a toad has got a
tail. Yes, a tail, gentlemen! Than a toad
has got a tail!" Verdict for defendant, case
dismissed, and court adjourned to whisky up at
late prisoner's expense.

Little as such law may be worth, it is
surprising with what alacrity a young community
of miners or backwoodsmen will attempt to
form some organisation for the preservation of
order according to law, and how naturally they
proceed to elect a magistrate or "Judge " out
of their number. This desire proceeds in part
from a wish to preserve order, and in part from
the all engrossing passion for voting, holding
"conventions," and " caucusses," and electing
somebody to hold some office or other, with
the usual amount of speechifying and drinking.

An old gentleman, with whom I passed
many pleasant evenings on the Walls of Panama
in days gone by, described to me his
recollection of a court-room in a western state.
It was a rough log building with a bar of
unhewn timber stretched across it. This was
the bar of justice. Behind it was a table with
a jar of molasses, a bottle of vinegar, and a jug
of water to make " switchel" for the court.

Time ten A.M. Enter Sheriff. Judge (who
is paring his corns after the manner of the
venerable Judge McAlmond, of San Francisco,
who was in the habit of paring his corns while
the business of the court was going on, and
generally sat with his heels tilted up in front of
him): " Wal, Mr. Sheriff, do you think we'll
get a jury to-day?"

"Neow, judge, jurymen are raither scarce
today; but I've got eleven men coralled under a
black walnut tree outside, and my niggers are
hunting deown a twelvth. I reckon we'll have
a jury in about half an hour."

And so the sheriff proceeds to liquor, and the
judge continues paring his corns until the court
opens.

I was assured by a former chief justice of one
of the states on the western slope of the Rocky
Mountains, that the first grand jury he ever
charged were sitting on the prairie under a tree,
and there was not a man of them that had on
any other foot gear but mocassins. And I know
a judge who, in the earlier days of California,
when everybody was " bound to make money,"
sat on the bench in the morning, mined during
the day, and played the fiddle in a whisky
shop at night. The county judge of Madison
county, in Washington territory, does (or did)
"run" the " gang saw" in the Port Madison
mills.

In these judges we often find the notion of
law not very defined, though (which is more
important) that of equity is strong. A most
notorious " rowdy," from New England, who
had escaped the law several times, was at last
captured in the act of smashing the interior of
a Chinese house of ill fame, in the little
village of Eureka, in North California. Evidence
against him was rather weak, and it was feared
he would again escape. But when the prisoner
was brought into court, his honour burst upon
him with a tirade of abuse: " E- e- h! Ye
long, leathern, lantern-jawed, Yankee cuss,
we've ketched you, e-e-h, at last? I'll commit
him at once!"

"But, judge," whispered the clerk, "you'll
have to hear the evidence."

"Evidence be blowed!" was the rejoinder.
"Wasn't I thar, and see'd it all myself?"

Judge P. was holding a term of the district
court in the village of Corvallis, in the then
territory of Oregon. His court was held in a
common log house, with a large open fireplace,
and a few rough heavy benches, that had never
known plane. An indictment was found against
one Charley Sandborn for selling whisky at retail,
although he had no licence. He stood at one
side of the fireplace with his hands deep in
his pockets; the judge sat upon the end of a
school bench on the other side of the fire.
When required to plead guilty or not guilty,
Charley threw himself on the mercy of the
court. The judge then sentenced him to pay
the lowest fine and costs. At the close of the
sentence, by way of personal palliation, his
lordship remarked, " that while it was the duty of
the court to enforce the laws as it found them
on the statute book, the person of the court
was not inimical to men who sold whisky."

There is in Idaho territory a judge who is
well known as " Alec Smith." A woman
brought suit in his court for divorce, and had
the discernment to select a particular friend of
her own, who stood well with the judge, as her
attorney. One morning the judge called up
the case, and addressing himself to the attorney
for the complainant, said: " Mr. H., I don't
think people ought to be compelled to live
together where they don't want to, and I will
decree a divorce in this case." Mr. H. bowed
blandly. Thereupon the judge, turning to
another attorney, whom he took to be the
counsel for the defendant, said: " Mr. M., I
suppose you have no objection to the decree?"
Mr. M. nodded assent. But the attorney for
the defendant was another Mr. M., not then in
court. Presently he came in, and finding that
his client had been divorced without a hearing,
began to remonstrate. Alec listened a moment,