The morning times., 1896-08-13
BULL In The STATION HOUSE
He Created More Havoc Than His
Prototype in a China She1.
Precinct No. 1 Yves Turned Upside
Down and a Riot Call Turned III
TO Check His Career.

The clock that ticks, ticks, ticks at DO
lice station No. l had Just chined the
hour OF 8. yesterday morning. The song
OF the cable was hushed, and the last drunk
had dizziiy wended his homeward way.
The night was as quiet as a funeral in
Philadelphia on a rainy Sunday. A few
rude sounds marred the silence. One was
the scratching OF the steel pen as Desk
Sergeant Everiy made out his nightly re-
port. The snoring OF .'Reddy" Tompkins
came in soft gurgles from an upper story
and Indicated that he had not slept on
duty.
Suddenly. the station resounded with a
muffled roar like the roll Of far off thunder
The desk sergeant looked up from his re-
port and said: ''Rain coming, at last"
The storm seems to be coming fICIn the
west" remarked Van Zandt, of the night
patrol.
Nearer and nearer came the thunder, till
it seemed that the storm center was in
the back yard OF police station No. 1.
The thunder roared and doomed Ever
and anon 1t doomed and beloved A
chorus OF hoarse voices was jumbled in
the discord. The sounds OF shsttering
glass and cracking timbers came into the
station. All was confusion.
Sounds more like riot than a squall,' -
said Mr.. Everly. as he came through the
front wondow. Something seemed to have
broken loose at the back OF the station.
Prince, the patrol horse, was removing
the stable door with his shoes.
The storm came nearer. 1t passed In
at the rear door OF the station, whirlcd
round the cell room, and roared through
the main hallway into the front office
Then the storm paused long enough to
kick several planks out of place, and to
paw up the floor in spots. A fog OF dust
clouded the dim-lghted station.
Several policemen, Edelin, Tompkins. and
other fled, half-Daked, into the street.
Some more flooring came up and a few
more window lights fell out. The dust rose
higher and grey denser.
There, right there in the station house:
right there on the very floor made sacred
by the tread OF the copper stood bull, a
living bull; a raging, snorting, bello wing
bull.
He paved, he praDced, he lowered his
head, he stamped, he threatened allaround
him with death He owned the station
house. He had arrested the station and
the whole outfit. No policeman had the
courage to prefer charge against him
Cover had climbed over the fence that
hens in the new city postoffice and was
remarking that he intended TO club that
bull. Tompkips sought safety under a
neigi,bor's porch. and shaking his stick
at the bull. said from beneath his scarlet
mustache, "I'll run yer in"
Slowly the bun calmed down He ceased
to buck and paw and rear. His fiery gaze
fell on the open door leading to the street
His postrils shifted the coolness Of the
dark without. MaJestically he made his
exit swis hing his tail from side to
side, he walked down the stone steps in
front of the station house on to Twelfth
street, and thence toward the Avenue
Three agitated couDtrymen, armed Will
ropes, followed.
The poll cemen came from their re
treats of safety and looked very beautiful
and brave as they marched back to the
station house That bull had escaped
from group of countrymen on Thirteenth
street, had rushed through the alley, and
finding the alley entrance to the station
open. had madly entered. he was cap
tured by his owners at Seventh street and
Pennsylvania avenue.