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