London was surprised and shocked on Friday last to learn
that the Metropolitan Polkas and the City Police had gone an strike. The public at large knew nothing of the unrest among the men until they had taken the final step, in forgetfulness of their oath to act as the guardians of the peace under the direction of their officers. Had the men made their grievances known through Parliament and the press, they would have instantly commanded widespread sympathy, for the police had earned the affectionate regard of all law-abiding. Londoners. As it was, their precipitate decision to strike—a virtual mutiny—distressed and chilled their best friends. The men demanded an increase of pay, amounting to £1 a week. with a new war bonus, the reinstatement of a constable who had been dismissed for acting as organizer of the National Union of Police and Prison Officers, and the official recognition of the union. They were told that an increase of pay was under considera- tion, but that the other demands were unacceptable. The strike followed. For forty-eight hours the greatest city in the world was left to the care of a few courageous " specials," while its guardians in plain clothes marohed in procession through the streets.
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