where the Porters pitch their loads, and
says, ' Oh dear,' ' is this where they hang
the men! Oh Lor! ' ' That! ' they says,
' what a simple cove he is! That an't it! '
And then, they pointed out which was it, and
I says ' Lor! ' and they says, ' Now you 'll
know it agen, won't you?' And I said I
thought I should if I tried hard—and I assure
you I kept a sharp look out for the City Police
when we were out in this way, for if any of
'em had happened to know me, and had spoke
to me, it would have been all up in a minute.
However, by good luck such a thing never
happened, and all went on quiet: though the
difficulties I had in communicating with my
brother officers were quite extraordinary.

"The stolen goods that were brought to
the public-house, by the Warehouse Porters,
were always disposed of in a back parlor.
For a long time, I never could get into this
parlor, or see what was done there. As I
sat smoking my pipe, like an innocent young
chap, by the tap-room fire, I 'd hear some of
the parties to the robbery, as they came in
and out, say softly to the landlord, ' Who's
that?  What does he do here? ' ' Bless your
soul,' says the landlord, ' He's only a'—ha,
ha, ha!—'he 's only a green young fellow from
the country, as is looking for a butcher's
sitiwation. Don't mind him! ' So, in course
of time, they were so convinced of my being
green, and got to be so accustomed to me,
that I was as free of the parlor as any of 'em,
and I have seen as much as Seventy Pounds
worth of fine lawn sold there, in one night,
that was stolen from a warehouse in Friday
Street. After the sale, the buyers always
stood treat—hot supper, or dinner, or what
not—and they 'd say on those occasions ' Come
on, Butcher! Put your best leg foremost,
young 'un, and walk into it! ' Which I used
to do—and hear, at table, all manner of particulars
that it was very important for us
Detectives to know.

"This went on for ten weeks. I lived in
the public-house all the time, and never was
out of the Butcher's dress—except in bed.
At last, when I had followed seven of the
thieves, and set 'em to rights—that's an expression
of ours, don't you see, by which I
mean to say that I traced 'em, and found out
where the robberies were done, and all about
'em—Straw, and Fendall, and I, gave one
another the office, and at a time agreed upon,
a descent was made upon the public-house,
and the apprehensions effected. One of the
first things the officers did, was to collar me—
for the parties to the robbery weren't to
suppose yet, that I was anything but a
Butcher—on which the landlord cries out,
' Don't take him,'' he says, ' whatever you do!
He's only a poor young chap from the country,
and butter wouldn't melt in his mouth! '
However, they—ha, ha, ha!—they took me,
and pretended to search my bedroom, where
nothing was found but an old fiddle belonging
to the landlord, that had got there somehow
or another. But, it entirely changed the landlord's
opinion, for when it was produced, he
says 'My fiddle! The Butcher's a pur-loiner!
I give him into custody for the robbery of a
musical instrument! '

"The man that had stolen the goods in
Friday Street was not taken yet. He had
told me, in confidence, that he had his suspicions
there was something wrong (on account
of the City Police having captured one of
the party), and that he was going to make
himself scarce. I asked him, ' Where do you
mean to go, Mr. Shepherdson? ' ' Why,
Butcher,' says he, ' the Setting Moon, in the
Commercial road, is a snug house, and I
shall hang out there for a time. I shall call
myself Simpson, which appears to me to be a
modest sort of a name. Perhaps you 'll give
us a look in, Btitcher? ' Well,' says I,
' I think I will give you a call '—which I
fully intended, don't you see, because, of
course, he was to be taken! I went over to
the Setting Moon next day, with a brother
officer, and asked at the bar for Simpson.
They pointed out his room, upstairs. As we
were going up, he looks down over the bannisters,
and calls out, ' Halloa, Butcher! is
that you?' ' Yes, it's me. How do you find
yourself? ' Bobbish,' he says; ' but who's that
with you?' ' It's only a young man, that's
a friend of mine,' I says. ' Come along, then,'
says he; ' any friend of the Butcher's is as
welcome as the Butcher!' So, I made my
friend acquainted with him, and we took him
into custody.

"You have no idea, Sir, what a sight it
was, in Court, when they first knew that I
wasn't a Butcher, after all! I wasn't produced
at the first examination, when there
was a remand; but I was, at the second.
And when I stepped into the box, in full
police uniform, and the whole party saw how
they had been done, actually a groan of
horror and dismay proceeded from 'em in
the dock!

"At the Old Bailey, when their trials came
on, Mr. Clarkson was engaged for the defence,
and he couldn't make out how it was, about
the Butcher. He thought, all along, it was a
real Butcher. When the counsel for the prosecution
said, 'I will now call before you,
gentlemen, the Police-officer,' meaning myself,
Mr. Clarkson says, ' Why
Police-officer? Why more Police-officers? I don't want
Police. We have had a great deal too much
of the Police. I want the Butcher! However,
Sir, he had the Butcher and the Police-
officer, both in one. Out of seven prisoners
committed for trial, five were found guilty, and
some of 'em were transported. The respectable
firm at the West End got a term of
imprisonment; and that's the Butcher's
Story!"

The story done, the chuckle-headed Butcher
again resolved himself into the smooth-faced
Detective. But, he was so extremely tickled
by their having taken him about, when he