Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1879-04-13
THE POLICEMAN'S PROTEGEs


THE POLICEMAN'S PROTEGE.
wanted to surprise my wife, so car
ried my parcel stealthily into the house
and deposited it unconcernedly on the
sideboard in our little parlor. should
have known my wife better than to have
doubted Aer feminine acuteness. .
"Why, whatever have you got there,
Charles? No more tow for the little
ones, hope I won't allow you to waste
the money like that, you affectionate old
fellow"
mo, old lady; no more toys for Nick
sy.'
"What's in the parcel, thenY'
Il don't know"
Here my wife looked at me incredu-
lousy. The idea of my having walked
home two miles from the police station
with parcel under my arm, of the con-
tents of which I was ignorant, seemed to
her feminine imagination such an utter
impossibility, that she expressed, as po-
litely as she could, with her uncommonly
expressive countenance, that was having
bit Of fun with her.
Don't know what's in the parcel then
why don't you open it, 1t may be some
thing dreadful"
"Don't feel very suspicious, at any
rate" said l; ''but you know as we'll as I
do why I didn't cut the string"
Why?'
Observation-Disclosures I wanted us to do it
together"
Here my wife kissed me, and that's
what I hoped for. We didn't cut the
string, because peculiar hobby of my
fathers had descended as an heirloom to
his son. I believe my father would soon
er have given me money for three balls
Of Irvine than allowed me to cut bit to
waste. But the nimble fingers Of my
wife soon undid the knots, and then came
perplexing wrappings of paper, fold upon
fold. At last came the last folding OF
tissue, and then we saw something gilt
ter.
"It's gold!" said my wife, in the ener-
getic tone of an excited Australian dig
ger.
I, was gold, but not nugget. Before
US on the table stood very handsome
clock, inlaid with Roman mosaic, and
beneath the clock was a silver plate
with the following inscription written on
it in scarlet enamel: 'Presented tc
Charles Dyson, the policeman who was
the means of rescuing beggar-boy from
despair. 'rhe poor ye have always
with you, but Me We have not always ,
"And what's the meaning of all this
Charles Dyson?' said my wife. 'Yes
tho policeman, of course, but who is thu
Na1 oil oh
husband, for I am dying to know"
'Molly, 1t must be mistake. I can't
understand it all.''
"a mistakel nonsense. Your names
Charles Dyson,a and of course the clock be
longs to you. But all! here's a letter."
Sure enough, there was letter bidder
among the paper coverings but as the let
ter may not prove very interesting, and Ger
tainly was far too eulogistic, I will trave
back some years from the night we un
packed the parcel, and relate, just as
related to my wife, the story of the beg
gar-boy.
''It was one Of those terrible hare
nights in the winter, when men NATURAL
thank GCd as they walk through tn
streets for the blessing of comfortable
is over, that | noticed little urchi
crying his heart out at the end of .1ar]
alley in the nelghDorhood Of Leiceste
Square. Now, I hate to hear childre
cry. For the matter Of that, I hate t.
hear any one cry, but it makes one
heart bleed to think and know-for al
policemen know lt--that young childre
cry and die of hunger and cold, day ate
day, while we hulking great fellows ca
mutton and beef, and have our stomach
warmed with cups of soothing coffee an
tea. am not fool, or I shouldn't b
policeman; and am not so dull tia
I can't see that many of these cryin
children are the instruments of cheat
and impostors.
"Anyhow, there was q little fello,
CRYING as if his heart would break, alon,
and up blind alley. touched the DO
on the shoulder, and asked him what wa
the matter.
He had no trumped-up story ready o
his lips. He gave one look at me, an
then covering his face with his hands,
sobbcd again. He was not afraid of m,
as most stleet boys are. They look upo
policemen as their natural enemies, know
ing that policemen are aware of all thei
cleverness and tricks. This poor litt]
fellow turned away because he VS.
ashamed. His story--when I could e
him to speak-was very simple one. 81
was an GRAND boy in stationer's sho]
and with his small earnings contrived
swell the income of his widowed mothe
who had to fill several little mouths. G.
ing home with his weeks wages, he ha
been robbed by designing woman, wh
had cajoled the little fellow into shown
his money, and having seen it, ha
snatched 1t out of his hand.
"Would he know the woman again
he saw her2 I asked.
HE thought he would. I knew We,
well whcre to find the woman. We di
find her, and where I expected--at IL
oar Of a public-house; but the boy
money had been passed on or hidde
away long before encountered her.
would have been a mere waste of time
have taken up the woman. I studied b.
features thoroughly, and let her go.
Sand now what was I to do with ii
boy2 I thoroughly believed his stor
and believing it, quite understood tt