the street, but my landlady came to me
excitedly and said the police would be on her before the day was out
if the jug was left there. The police allowed nothing on a window-sill
in that town, lest it should fall on a citizen's head. Each town or
district has its own restrictions, its own crimes. In one you will
hear that a butcher boy is not allowed on the side-path carrying his
tray of meat. If a policeman catches him at it, he, or his employer,
is fined. In another town the awning from a shop window must not
exceed a certain length, and you are told of a poor widow, who, having
just had a new one put up at great expense, was compelled by the
police to take the whole thing down, because the flounce was a quarter
of an inch longer than the regulations prescribed. You hear of a poor
man laboriously building a toy brick wall round the garden in his
_Hof_, and having to pull it to pieces because "building" is not
allowed except with police permission. In some towns the length of a
woman's gown is decided in the _Polizeibureau_, and the officers fine
any woman whose skirt touches the ground. In one town you may take a
dog out without a muzzle; in another it is a crime. A merchant on his
way to his office, in a city where there was a muzzling order, found
to his annoyance, one morning, that his mother's dog had followed him
unmuzzled. He had no string with him, he could not persuade the dog to
return, and he could not go back with it, because he had an important
appointment. So he risked it and went on. Before long, however, he met
a policeman. The usual questions were asked, his name and address were
taken, and he was told that he would be fined. Hardly had he got to
the end of the street when he met a second policeman. He explained
that the matter was settled, but this was not the opinion of the
policeman. Was the dog not at large, unmuzzled, on his the
policeman's beat? With other policemen he had nothing to do. The dog
was his discovery, the name and address of the owner were required,
and there was no doubt, in the policeman's mind, that the owner would
have to pay a second fine. The merchant went his ways, still followed
by an unmuzzled unled dog. Before long he met a third policeman, gave
his name and address a third time, and was assured that he would have
to pay a third time.

"_Dann war es mir zu bunt_," said the merchant, and he picked up the
dog and carried it the rest of the way to his office. When he got
the