But a man does not achieve greatness by his own unaided efforts. Others,
his subordinates, help him to climb the ladder. It was so with Mr.
Swarbrick. There was a tall policeman in the service of the company, the
possessor of a fine figure, and a splendid long sandy-coloured beard. His
primary duty was to air himself at the front entrance of the station
arrayed in a fine uniform and tall silk hat, and this duty he
conscientiously performed. Secondarily, his occupation was to start the
colouring of new meerschaums for Mr. Swarbrick. Non-meerschaum smokers
may not know what a delicate task this is, but once well begun the rest
is comparatively easy. The tall policeman was an artist at the work; but
it nearly brought him to a tragic end, as I will relate.
Outside Derby station was a ticket platform at which all incoming trains
stopped for the collection of tickets. This platform was on a bridge
that crossed the river. One Saturday night our fine policeman was airing
himself on this platform, colouring a handsome new meerschaum for Mr.
Swarbrick. It was a windy night and a sudden gust blew his tall hat into
the river, and after it unfortunately dropped the meerschaum.
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