"]
Speaking of night-sticks reminds me of seeing General Grant in his
to my mind greatest hour, the only time he was ever beaten, and
by a policeman. I told his son, Fred Grant, of it when he became
a Police Commissioner in the nineties, but I do not think he
appreciated it. He was not cast in his great father's mould. The
occasion I refer to was after the General's second term in the
Presidency. He was staying at the Fifth Avenue Hotel when one
morning the Masonic Temple was burned. The fire-line was drawn
halfway down the block toward Fifth Avenue, but the police were much
hampered by the crowd, and were out of patience when I, standing by,
saw a man in a great ulster with head buried deep in the collar,
a cigar sticking straight out, coming down the street from the
hotel. I recognized him at sight as General Grant. The policeman
who blocked his way did not. He grabbed him by the collar, swung
him about, and, hitting him a resounding whack across the back with
his club, yelled out:--
"What's the matter with you? Don't you see the fire-lines? Chase
yourself out of here, and be quick about it.
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