IT was about an hour they call the small, and the mysterious, An hour wherein the ghosts are wont to take their constitutional, 'Twas twenty-four o'clock; an hour that's oftimes deleterious To many a liver wetted swell, pugnacious or emotional. The beggared corporation lights, did flick in the nor'wester gale, That blistering nose, and finger-tips, were loaded well with sleet, When Binks harrangued a constable, "Good night, it's cold, you're looking pale," From where he backed a lamp-post, at the end of Brunswick Street. "Ah! Sergeant," said Fitz-Binks, "It's late, or I could treat you decently, And 'twouldn't be too dusty, if we had a flying drink; But Chap, of Vic., is strict, they passed in Parliament so recently," The bobbie was a thirsty one, he winked a thirsty wink. "Ha! ha!" said Binks, "You know the lines, so don't be too particular, There's some back door that's open," said the constable, "you're right; Just move an' there thro' yondher lane an' hide up perpendicular, Beyant the lamp, I'll folly whin there's nobody in sight." The thing was managed gracefully, and with an open sesamè, The constable had stolen to a quiet bar with Binks, Produced a clay, said he, "I hope yer honor won't think less of me, To pull a pipe," "By Jove! I don't," said Binks, and bought the drinks. The moment was so contraband, it gave unto that liquor bar, A zest, he asked the constable to take another neat, But lifting out his ticker, says the bobbie, "Well be quick or 'gar! The sergeant might come whop on me! he's out upon his beat." The constable decanted it, said he, "Howld on until I look, Now fly!" said he, and while they dived again into the night, He fished from out his overcoat, and deftly in his mouth he stuck, A friendly lump of orris root, to make his breath all right. That bobbie was a wily one, the act was rather opportune, For they had scarcely managed to get half-way up the gut When he was made aware that he must coin a whited whopper soon, For hark! it was the tramping of the sergeant's heavy foot! Said he, "We must dissimble, or I'm ruined, and a shapable, Excuse I'll have to make!" * * * * * * "What brings the two of you down here?" "I'm makin' just a Pres'ner, Sir, he's dhrunk, an' he's incapable," Exclaimed the bobbie, gripping Binks, just under Binks's ear! 'Twas somewhat ominous for Binks, though he protested not, he chewed The cud of thought, until he saw that sergeant out of sight; He had not comprehended yet, the patronising turpitude Of bobbies, who will take a treat, "well now," said he, "good night," But spake that constable, said he, "good night is best for you, ye see,