Policeman Hogan

Mr. Scalper sits writing in the reporters' room of The
Daily Eclipse. The paper has gone to press and he is
alone; a wayward talented gentleman, this Mr. Scalper,
and employed by The Eclipse as a delineator of character
from handwriting. Any subscriber who forwards a specimen
of his handwriting is treated to a prompt analysis of
his character from Mr. Scalper's facile pen. The literary
genius has a little pile of correspondence beside him,
and is engaged in the practice of his art. Outside the
night is dark and rainy. The clock on the City Hall marks
the hour of two. In front of the newspaper office Policeman
Hogan walks drearily up and down his beat. The damp misery
of Hogan is intense. A belated gentleman in clerical
attire, returning home from a bed of sickness, gives him
a side-look of timid pity and shivers past. Hogan follows
the retreating figure with his eye; then draws forth a
notebook and sits down on the steps of The Eclipse building
to write in the light of the gas lamp. Gentlemen of
nocturnal habits have often wondered what it is that
Policeman Hogan and his brethren write in their little
books. Here are the words that are fashioned by the big
fist of the policeman:

"Two o'clock. All is well. There is a light in Mr.
Scalper's room above. The night is very wet and I am
unhappy and cannot sleep--my fourth night of insomnia.
Suspicious-looking individual just passed. Alas, how
melancholy is my life! Will the dawn never break! Oh,
moist, moist stone."

Mr. Scalper up above is writing too, writing with the
careless fluency of a man who draws his pay by the column.
He is delineating with skill and rapidity. The reporters'
room is gloomy and desolate. Mr. Scalper is a man of
sensitive temperament and the dreariness of his surroundings
depresses him. He opens the letter of a correspondent,
examines the handwriting narrowly, casts his eye around
the room for inspiration, and proceeds to delineate:

"G.H. You have an unhappy, despondent nature; your
circumstances oppress you, and your life is filled with
an infinite sadness. You feel that you are without hope--"

Mr. Scalper pauses, takes another look around the room,
and finally lets his eye rest for some time upon a tall
black bottle that stands on the shelf of an open cupboard.
Then he goes on:

"--and you have lost all belief in Christianity and a
future world and human virtue. You are very weak against
temptation, but there is a