Article November 19, 1910 Issue

"AS ONE HAVING AUTHORITY"

WARWICK JAMES PRICE.

The newcomer to London is rare who does not receive as his first lasting impression of the metropolis the efficiency of its big, blue, benevolent policeman,—"Bobbie," as he is known half the Anglo-Saxon world over. Driving hotelward, and peering out from his cab upon the seemingly endless processions of pedestrians and vehicles of all sorts which pack the narrow streets, the chances are in favor of the traveler's catching more than one glimpse of the order everywhere maintained in the heart of seeming chaos by the calmly confident guardian of the peace. Apparently impassive, yet actually the personification of alertness, wholly unarmed save for the visible insignia of his position bestowed by his uniform, the policeman stands in completest control of the surging thousands which throng the thoroughfares and parks. His unobtrusive yet impressive rule is felt everywhere. A white-gloved hand is raised no higher than the helmet's rim—and instanter the east-and-west traffic stops as if every horse were hobbled, each motor-car suddenly bereft of power. Geranium-laden coster-cart and package-piled van, luxurious victoria and crowded "bus, all yield unquestioning obedience to that one man's silent command. A moment later and, at a second similar unspoken order, those accumulated columns stream on again while the north-and-south lines wait in turn.

What works the modern miracle? Not the broad shoulders and muscular arms of the man, surely; Hercules' self would be lost in such a contest. It is the recognition of the power which that lone figure represents. He stands on his crossing the embodiment of British government. He speaks as one having authority, and order follows.

What closer parallel may be drawn than with that other (and higher) exponent of present-day order, the student "who adheres to the divine rules of Christian Science and imbibes the spirit of Christ" (Science and Health, p. 462)? Firm at the post of duty, whether in some peaceful backwater of life, or, perhaps, at a point where the main streams of its activities sweep tumultuously together, he stands firm at his post, striving to express the glorious possibilities of man as God's likeness. He, too, is witness of that so-called "pageant of life" as it swirls and eddies past. Sin in its many guises—now as sordid as if but just come from some slums, now redolent of all those outward graces which the more potently mask its evil intent; disease, in its myriad forms,—each, after all, but a part of the one problem of the world's streets; the jingling chains of personal pride and place; the creaking wheels of envy and malice; self-indulgence, stretched at ease upon its cushions; sensulaism, hurrying by, the blinds drawn tight across its windows,—these are some of the all but numberless phases of the one evil which this worker for Truth goes forth to annihilate.

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