As far as the boys knew, the civic affairs of the place were transacted
entirely by two constables. Of mayors and magistrates, such as there
must have been, they knew nothing, and they had not the least notion
what the Whigs whom they were always trying to elect were to do when
they got into office. They knew that the constables were both Democrats,
but, if they thought at all about the fact, they thought their Democracy
the natural outcome of their dark constabulary nature, and by no means
imagined that they were constables because they were Democrats. The
worse of the two, or the more merciless, was also the town-crier, whose
office is now not anywhere known in America, I believe; though I heard a
town-crier in a Swiss village not many years ago. In the Boy's Town the
crier carried a good-sized bell; when he started out he rang it till he
reached the street corner, and then he stopped, and began some such
proclamation as, "O, yes! O, yes! O, yes! There will be an auction this
evening at early candle-light, at Brown & Robinson's store! Dry goods,
boots and shoes, hats and caps, hardware, queen's ware, and so forth,
and so forth. Richard Roe, Auctioneer! Come one, come all, come
everybody!" Then the crier rang his bell, and went on to the next
corner, where he repeated his proclamation. After a while, the constable
got a deputy to whom he made over his business of town-crier. This
deputy was no other than that reckless boy who used to run out from the
printing-office and shoot the turtle-doves; and he decorated his
proclamation with quips and quirks of his own invention, and with
personal allusions to his employer, who was auctioneer as well as
constable. But though he was hail-fellow with every boy in town, and
although every boy rejoiced in his impudence, he was so panoplied in the
awfulness of his relation to the constabulary functions that, however
remote it was, no boy would have thought of trifling with him when he
was on duty. If ever a boy holloed something at him when he was out with
his crier's bell, he turned and ran as hard as he could, and as if from
the constable himself.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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