Memoirs of an editor : fifty years of American journalism / Edward P. Mitchell.

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MEMOIRS OF AN EDITOR

malt emporium in the basement of the Tribune's tall
tower, and thence through a sequence of innocent and
unobservant holders. The commissioner dismissed the
case offhand, and as the accused left the court-room
accompanied by more or less amused friends who persisted in styling him "Forat Mitchell," he was touched
on the elbow by the author of his troubles, who remarked
with undiminished severity; "You still owe the Messrs.
Park & Tilford a dollar for those cigars."
I never heard whether the sleuth cashier was rewarded
or reprimanded by his employers. The next day I received
at my boarding-house, 106 Madison Avenue, a visit from
the senior member of the firm. He came bringing apologies
almost abject in their expression and also a box of expensive cigars which he urged upon me with the arch persuasion, "I know you smoke!" I shook hands with the
blameless Mr. Park, but the tobacco of conciliation was
declined because at Mr. Dana's paternal instance a claim
for damages for false arrest had been intrusted to Messrs.
Root & Bartlett. Later the suit was dropped by their
advice, in which my chief and myself heartily concurred
when the irritation had subsided. Such was my first and
last entanglement in the meshes of the law, except in
gentler and entirely civil proceedings.
If the trifling incident is not worth relating for the reason already given, it certainly serves to illustrate the fine
qualities of discernment and considerate kindness manifested in thousands of ways by the old type of the New
York policeman; and I don't believe that in the force or
out of it human nature has changed one particle since that
visit to the East Twenty-ninth Street station.

II
The successor of the Root & Bartlett firm in The
Sun's department of dramatic criticism was a singular
genius named J. C. Heywood who almost might have