stared and the Commissioner's eyes grew
bigger and rounder.

Missing his reserves, Sergeant McNally had sent the Roundsman in
search of them. He was slow in returning, and the Sergeant went on a
tour of inspection himself. He journeyed to the upper region, and
there came upon the party in full swing. Then and there he called the
roll. Not one of the platoon was missing.

They formed a hollow square around something that looked uncommonly
like a beer-keg. A number of tin growlers stood beside it. The
Sergeant picked up one and turned the tap. There was enough left in
the keg to barely half fill it. Seeing that, the platoon followed him
downstairs without a murmur.

One by one the twenty took the stand after the Sergeant had left it,
and testified without a tremor that they had seen no beer-keg. In
fact, the majority would not know one if they saw it. They were tired
and hungry, having been held in reserve all day, when a pleasant smell
assailed their nostrils.

Each of the twenty followed his nose independently to the top floor,
where he was surprised to see the rest gathered about a pot of
steaming chowder. He joined the circle and partook of some. It was
good. As to beer, he had seen none and drunk less. There was something
there of wood with a brass handle to it. What it was none of them
seemed to know. They were all shocked at the idea that it might have
been a beer-keg. Such things are forbidden in police stations.

The Sergeant himself could not tell how it could have got in there,
while stoutly maintaining that it was a keg. He scratched his head and
concluded that it might have come over the roof, or, somehow, from a
building that is in course of erection next door. The chowder had come
in by the main door. At least one policeman had seen it carried
upstairs. He had fallen in behind it immediately.

When the Commissioner had heard this story told exactly twenty times
the platoon fell in and marched off to the elevated station. When he
can decide what punishment to inflict on a policeman who does not know
a beer-keg when he sees it, they all will be fined accordingly, and a
doorman who has served a term as a barkeeper will be sent to the East
One Hundred and Fourth Street station to keep the police there out of
harm's way.

DIFFICULTIES OF A DEACON

It is my firm opinion that newspaper men should not be deacons. Not
that there is any moral or spiritual reason why they should
abstain--not that; b