(_By a good Old-fashioned Clown._)
KNOCK at a shop-door, and then lie down flat in front of it, so that the
shopman, coming out, may tumble headlong over you. Then bolt into the
shop, and cram into your pockets all the big things you can find, so
that in trying to get out, you cannot squeeze them through the doorway.
For instance, if it be a watchmaker's, clap an eight-day kitchen clock
and a barometer or two, let us say, in your right pocket, and a brass
warming-pan, or some such little article of jewellery (as you will take
care to call it) in your left one; taking pains, of course, to let the
handle stick well out of it. If it be a butcher's, pouch a leg of beef
and half a sheep or so, and be sure not to forget to bring a yard or two
of sausages trailing on the ground behind you. Then, if you can't
squeeze through the doorway, the simplest plan will be to jump clean
through the shop-front, and in doing this take care to smash as many
panes of glass as you are able, crying out, of course, that you took
"great pains" to do so. _En passant_, you will kick into the street
whatever goods are in the window, and then run off as quickly as your
heels can carry you.
If the shopman should pursue you, as most probably he will, make him a
low bow, and say that it was really quite an accident, and that of
course you mean to pay him--indeed, yes, "on your _honour_!" If he won't
believe you, punch him in the waistcoat, and batter him about with his
barometer and warming-pan, or sausages and mutton.
Should a policeman interfere, and want to know what you are up to, catch
up your red-hot poker (which you will always have about you), and hold
it hidden behind your back, while you beg him to shake hands with you,
because you mean to "square the job" with him. Then, when he puts his
hand out, slap the poker into it, and run away as fast as your stolen
goods will let you.
But after a few steps, of course you must take care to let the handle of
your warming-pan get stuck between your legs, and trip you up
occasionally; and you will manage that your sausages become entangled so
about you that, at every second step, you are obliged to tumble down and
roll along the ground, and double up into a heap, till the policeman,
who keeps up the chace, comes close enough to catch you. Then you will
spring up again, and, jumping on his back, you will be carried off to
Bow Street, with the small boys shouting after you; or, else, if you
prefer it, you may "bonnet" the policeman, and run away and hide
yourself ere he can lift his hat up, to see where you are gone to.
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