“Allow me to suggest through your columns the favourable opportunity and most appropriate situation, now afforded, of erecting in the centre of the Square some worthy trophy, or statue, commemorating the glorious victories of the immortal Nelson. Whilst other great commanders and statesmen are honoured with suitable public monuments to their fame, surely the British nation would be eager, if called on, to pay this tribute to the valour, intrepidity and success of this illustrious hero. Yours, etc.—J. B.” In those days every man went clean shaven, or only had side whiskers, a full beard being unknown, and moustaches were confined to foreigners and to a few cavalry regiments, so that for a working man to sport them (although now so exceedingly common) would probably lead to derision and persecution, as in the following police case reported in the _Times_ of 21 Sep.: MARLBOROUGH STREET.—Yesterday, a young man, “bearded like the pard,” who said he was a carpenter employed on the London and Birmingham Railroad, applied to Mr. Rawlinson, the sitting magistrate, for an assault warrant, under the following ludicrous circumstances: Mr. Rawlinson: What do you want the warrant for? Applicant: I’ll tell your worship, and you’ll say it’s the most haggrawating and provoking thing as ever was heard on. Veil, then, I goes to my vork, as usual, this ’ere morning, ven one of my shopmates said to me, “Bill, you arn’t shaved your hupper lip lately.” “Don’t mean it,” says I. “Vy?” says he. “’Cos,” I replied, “I intends vearing mustachios to look like a gentleman.” “Vell, then,” says he, “as you intends to become a fashionable gentleman, p’raps you’ll have no objection to forfeit half-a-gallon of ale, as it’s a rule here that every workman vot sports mustachios, to have them vetted a bit.” Veil, has I refused to have my mustachios christened, they made game of them, and said they weren’t half fledged; and, more nor all that, they hustled me about, and stole my dinner out of the pot, and treated me shameful, and so I want your advice respecting my mustachios. Mr. Rawlinson: My advice is, to go to a barber and have them shaved off without loss of time. Applicant: Can’t part with a single hair. Mr. Rawlinson: You want to look like a grenadier, I suppose? Applicant: My granny-dear (God bless her old soul!), she never had such a fashionable and warlike appendage in her life. Mr. Rawlinson: What business has a carpenter with a quantity of long hair hanging from his lip? Applicant: The reason vy I vears it is ’cos it’s fashionable, and makes me look like a man of some courage.