ur skin may be
beautified at trifling cost--anything from sixpence to five shillings.

The professor works every evening from seven to ten o'clock, in his
shirt-sleeves. In the corner of the studio is the operating-table,
littered with small basins of liquid inks of various hues, and a
sterilizing-vessel, which receives the electric needle after each client
has been punctured. Winter, he tells me, contradicting the poet, is his
best time. He finds that in Shadwell and the neighbourhood the young
man's fancy turns more definitely to love in the dark evenings than in
the spring. As soon as October sets in his studio is crowded with boys
who desire the imprinting of beautiful names on their thick skins. He
calculates that he must have tattooed the legend "Mizpah" some eight
thousand times since he started in the business. Girls, too, sometimes
visit him, and demonstrate their love for their boy in a chosen
masculine way.

To-night he had snatched a few hours in the West, and was just returning
home. It being then well past twelve, we sauntered a little way with
him, and called at a coffee-stall for a cup of the leathery tea which is
the speciality of the London coffee-stall. Most stalls have their
"regulars," especially those that are so fortunate as to pitch near a
Works of any kind. The stall we visited was on the outskirts of Soho,
and near a large colour-printing house which was then working day and
night. I wonder, by the way, why printers always drink tea and stout in
preference to other beverages. I wonder, too, why policemen prefer
hard-boiled eggs above all other food.

It is a curious crowd that gathers about the stalls. In the course of a
night you may meet there every type of Londoner. You may meet policemen,
chauffeurs, printers, toughs, the boy and girl who have been to a
gallery and want to finish the night in proper style, and--the
cadgers. At about the middle of the night there is a curious break
in the company: the tone changes. Up to four o'clock it's the
stay-up-all-nights; after that hour it's the get-up-earlys. One minute
there would be a would-be viveur, in sleek dress clothes; then along
comes a cadger; then along comes a warrior from the battlefield. Then,
with drowsy clatter, up comes a gang of roadmen, scavengers, railway
workers, and so on. A little later comes the cheerful one who has made a
night of it, and, somehow, managed to elude the police. He takes a cup
of strong tea, demonstrates th