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150
Literary Lapses
·
Stephen Leacock
104
An
Experiment
With
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."
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