They bore little resemblance to what I had expected. My mental
picture of an American policeman was that conglomerate average one
unconsciously imbibes from a distant view of our city forces, and
by comparison with foreign,--a heavy-footed, discourteous, half-
fanatical, half-irreligious clubber whose wits are as slow as his
judgment is honest. Instead of which I found the Z. P. composed
almost without exception of good-hearted, well set up young
Americans almost all of military training. I had anticipated, from
other experiences, a constant bickering and a general striving to
make life unendurable for a new-comer. Instead I was constantly
surprised at the good fellowship that existed throughout the
force. There were of course some healthy rivalries; there were no
angels among them--or I should have fled the Isthmus much earlier;
but for the most part the Z. P. resembled nothing so much as a big
happy family. Above all I had expected early to make the
acquaintance of "graft," that shifty-eyed monster which we who
have lived in large American cities think of as sitting down to
dinner with the force in every mess-hall. Graft? Why a Zone
Policeman could not ride on a P. R. R. train in full uniform when
off duty without paying his fare, though he was expected to make
arrests if necessary and stop behind with his prisoner.
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