e in the ground.
With his person full of beer and his feet out the windy and his old
woman frying pork chops over a charcoal furnace and the childher
dancing in cotton slips on the sidewalk around the organ-grinder and
the rent paid for a week--what does a man want better on a hot night
than that? And then comes this ruling of the polis driving people out
o' their comfortable homes to sleep in parks--'twas for all the world
like a ukase of them Russians--'twill be heard from again at next
election time.

"Well, then, Officer Reagan drives the whole lot of us to the park
and turns us in by the nearest gate. 'Tis dark under the trees, and
all the children sets up to howling that they want to go home.

"'Ye'll pass the night in this stretch of woods and scenery,' says
Officer Reagan. ''Twill be fine and imprisonment for insoolting the
Park Commissioner and the Chief of the Weather Bureau if ye refuse.
I'm in charge of thirty acres between here and the Agyptian Monument,
and I advise ye to give no trouble. 'Tis sleeping on the grass yez
all have been condemned to by the authorities. Yez'll be permitted
to leave in the morning, but ye must retoorn be night. Me orders was
silent on the subject of bail, but I'll find out if 'tis required and
there'll be bondsmen at the gate.'

"There being no lights except along the automobile drives, us 179
tenants of the Beersheba Flats prepared to spend the night as best we
could in the raging forest. Them that brought blankets and kindling
wood was best off. They got fires started and wrapped the blankets
round their heads and laid down, cursing, in the grass. There was
nothing to see, nothing to drink, nothing to do. In the dark we had
no way of telling friend or foe except by feeling the noses of 'em. I
brought along me last winter overcoat, me tooth-brush, some quinine
pills and the red quilt off the bed in me flat. Three times during
the night somebody rolled on me quilt and stuck his knees against the
Adam's apple of me. And three times I judged his character by running
me hand over his face, and three times I rose up and kicked the
intruder down the hill to the gravelly walk below. And then some one
with a flavour of Kelly's whiskey snuggled up to me, and I found
his nose turned up the right way, and I says: 'Is that you, then,
Patsey?' and he says, 'It is, Carney. How long do you think it'll
last?'

"'I'm no weather-prophet,' says I, 'but if they bring out a strong
anti-Tamman