His stock in hand to suit each land,
Was various in assortment;
In gains and grace he throve apace,
Till quite dignified grew his deportment;
And he kept a strong box, with three patent locks,
And he knew what "taking it short" meant.

Till there came bad times, and long columns of crimes
Filled the files of the morning papers,
How cribs had been cracked, and tills ransacked,
And all sorts of burglarious capers,
Set forth without stint by all arts of print
To attract the _gobemouches_ and gapers.

But SMUG only jeered, as these stories appeared,
At the nervousness of each neighbour;
Said it would be absurd, were cost incurred
In blunderbuss, pistol, and sabre;
And when the Police 'twas resolved to increase,
He declaimed about waste of labour.

But the Vestry still, to guard shop and till,
Voted rates, spite of all objectors:
Laid in bars and bolts, and revolvers from COLT'S,
And a pack of canine protectors;
While EPHRAIM SMUG called their fears humbug,
And snubbed the Police Inspectors!

He railed at the cost; counted up what was lost
In alarum, and dog, and detective;
At the Vestry he got excessively hot,
And descended to invective,--
Calling stories of plunder, mere editor's thunder
To make newspaper sales more active.

Quoth he: "Why spend our gains, in spring shutters and chains,
Instead of in lawful traffic?"
Then of danger to peace, from dogs and police,
He gave a picture graphic;
And on brotherly trust came out with a "bust"
Of eloquence quite seraphic.

"And after all's done, has anything gone?"
(Thus ran his peroration),
"Where's the highwayman grabbed, or the burglar nabbed,
For all your big police-station?
Show a dog if you can that has pinned his man!
I pause--for a demonstration."

Some this eloquence scorned, and wouldn't be warned--
But some began to change feature;--
"The Policeman we pay three shillings a day,
And a dog is a hungry creature."--
When thus began a plain-spoken man--
Not the least of a popular preacher:

"Now, it seems to my mind--though no doubt I'm blind
Not to follow friend EPHRAIM'S reason--
That we've not thrown away our policeman's pay,
If our pillows we take our ease on,
Without any dread of a chap 'neath the bed,
With a knife to slit one's weason.

"If our bars and our bolts, and revolvers from C