Next day saw a row; knew my duty perfectly well in this instance. Turned down the nearest street and went into a rum-shop; man followed me in, and, as I was taking a "brandy-smash," he stepped up and asked me my name; told him none of his business; asked me again; told him if he didn't shut up I'd break his mouth.
He went off, and I returned to the field of battle and took into custody a man with his head cut open, who was lying across the curb-stone; led him to the Station House, and complained of him for breaking the peace.
Next day was summoned before the Mayor; thought I was going to receive a public compliment for doing my duty, and perhaps get promoted—have my salary raised—and presented with a medal.
Had never seen the Mayor; went into the room, and saw, sitting in the big chair, the man who had asked me the day before what my name was, whose mouth I had threatened to break, and who I now discovered was Mayor Wood.
He asked me my name; didn't say anything about breaking his mouth this time; he informed me that the city had no further occasion for my services; hadn't any thing to say; took off my star, gave up my club, and left the presence, resolved that if another man asks my name, to tell him politely,
Q. K. Philander Doesticks, P.B.
P. S.—I have just got a note, saying that my back salary will not be paid. Shall sue the city, for I know that in the fighting business I did my duty as an M. P. according to police usage from time immemorial.
What right has Mayor Wood to come in and upset ancient customs with his new-fangled notions? He may go to thunder.