I hardly knew him when he passed, but as he turned and
held out his hand I saw that it was Mr. Dana, looking somehow older
than I had ever seen him, and changed. I took off my hat and we
shook hands.
"Well," he said, "have you reformed everything to suit you,
straightened out every kink in town?"
"Pretty nearly," I said, falling into his tone of banter; "all
except the _Sun_ office. That is left yet, and as bad as ever."
"Ha!" he laughed, "you come on! We are ready for you. Come right
along!" And with another hearty hand-shake he was gone. He never
saw the _Sun_ office again.
It was the only time he had ever held out his hand to me, after
that first meeting of ours when I was a lonely lad, nearly thirty
years before. That time there was a dollar in it and I spurned
it. This time I like to believe his heart was in it. And I took
it gladly and gratefully.
The police helped--sometimes. More frequently we were at odds,
and few enough in the rank and file understood that I was fighting
for them in fighting the department. A friend came into my office,
laughing, one day, and told me that he had just overheard the
doorman at Police Headquarters say, as he saw me pass:--
"Ugh! the hypocrite! See him take off his hat and then lay us out
cold in his paper when he gets the chance.
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