hen yer've got ter give 'im 'Ell,
An' it's trunch, trunch, truncheon does the trick

POLICE STATION DITTIES.

I had spent Christmas Eve at the Club, listening to a grand pow-wow
between certain of the choicer sons of Adam. Then Slushby had cut
in. Slushby is one who writes to newspapers and is theirs obediently
"HUMANITARIAN." When Slushby cuts in, men remember they have to be up
early next morning.

Sharp round a corner on the way home, I collided with something firmer
than the regulation pillar-box. I righted myself after the recoil
and saw some stars that were very pretty indeed. Then I perceived the
nature of the obstruction.

"Evening, Judlip," I said sweetly, when I had collected my hat from
the gutter. "Have I broken the law, Judlip? If so, I'll go quiet."

"Time yer was in bed," grunted X, 36. "Yer Ma'll be lookin' out for
yer."

This from the friend of my bosom! It hurt. Many were the night-beats
I had been privileged to walk with Judlip, imbibing curious lore that
made glad the civilian heart of me. Seven whole 8x5 inch note-books
had I pitmanised to the brim with Judlip. And now to be repulsed as
one of the uninitiated! It hurt horrid.

There is a thing called Dignity. Small boys sometimes stand on it.
Then they have to be kicked. Then they get down, weeping. I don't
stand on Dignity.

"What's wrong, Judlip?" I asked, more sweetly than ever. "Drawn a
blank to-night?"

"Yuss. Drawn a blank blank blank. 'Avent 'ad so much as a kick at a
lorst dorg. Christmas Eve ain't wot it was." I felt for my note-book.
"Lawd! I remembers the time when the drunks and disorderlies down this
street was as thick as flies on a fly-paper. One just picked 'em orf
with one's finger and thumb. A bloomin' battew, that's wot it wos."

"The night's yet young, Judlip," I insinuated, with a jerk of my thumb
at the flaring windows of the "Rat and Blood Hound." At that moment
the saloon-door swung open, emitting a man and woman who walked with
linked arms and exceeding great care.

Judlip eyed them longingly as they tacked up the street. Then he
sighed. Now, when Judlip sighs the sound is like unto that which
issues from the vent of a Crosby boiler when the cog-gauges are at
260 deg. F.

"Come, Judlip!" I said. "Possess your soul in patience. You'll soon
find someone to make an example of. Meanwhile"--I threw back my head
and smacked my lips--"the usual, Judlip?"

In another minute I emerge