The Cambridge Police Force, which has served in so many extemporaneous tag days, has lately branched into a new field of endeavor which shows they have been reading Popular Mechanics in addition to their old favorite Gazette. Spring fever got in the bones of the department and the order went out from headquarters to sweep down the gutters. As usual, prompt execution trod on the heels of the cleansing ukase. Supplied with bright new brooms, the clean-up squad arrived to find that certain streets below Massachusetts Avenue were lined with automobiles. Thereupon, the law enforcers cleverly realized that it might be well first to remove the cars. But what consternation pervaded their ranks when the autos were found locked and their owners either in class or in bed. What to do? What to do?
First thought was to declare a half-holiday and put the brooms away. Then some more brilliant upholder of the Commonwealth bethought him of the simple trundlers garage men use to shift cars around with. With whoops of glee the entire force raided the nearest garage and brought back a trundler each five in all.
What they had the rest of the morning playing horsey and freight train up and down Mt. Auburn Street and making teams of cars for each other's amusement. But finally, about twelve o'clock, the chief came down to open up the station and ordered them to put their playthings away in the nearest garage.
Shortly the unfortunate car owners discovered that their entire fleet had been spirited away like Aladdin's famous castle. They searched and searched, and at last found the garage man and paid him storage. A few, not realizing the colossal sense of humor of the Police Department, are still looking for them. Some of the more literal minded son's went so far as to ask the police to justify their joke. They should have caught the spirit of the thing and remembered that there is always a clause which can be stretched to cover any case. Of course their cars were abandoned.