his utmost speed, towards the Kensington Gate, from which he was not far distant, and the two fellows ran across the Park, and effected their escape.” A few years later, things were not much better, as we find in a letter in _The Times_ of Aug. 7th, 1847. “It is now proved beyond a doubt that any blackguard may insult, attack and rob you with perfect impunity, unless you can induce him to wait patiently whilst you scour the park in search of a policeman to take possession of him. Here is a case in point. I was in the park last evening. Some children were amusing themselves with a kite. Two blackguards crossed their path, and at once took possession of their ball of string. I desired them to return it, otherwise I should give them in charge. They very complacently glanced around them, and then began to pour forth, within the hearing of several women and children, a torrent of the most filthy language. A gentleman who came up at the time interfered, and the abuse was at once turned upon him; the intention of the men being, evidently, to create a disturbance, and then profit by it. I at once went in search of a policeman: after walking about a quarter of a mile, I met a park-keeper. His answer to my request was, ‘Oh! I can’t interfere, you’ll find a policeman somewhere.’ I proceeded in my search, and at last found one on the other side of the Serpentine, amongst the bathers: he very readily accompanied me, although leaving his especial duty, and the matter was soon settled.” Complaints were also made of the inadequacy of the police during the building of the Great Exhibition of 1851. Crowds used to go every Sunday to see how it had progressed, and a dweller in Park Place thus writes to _The Times_ (_vide_ Feb. 18, 1851): “I will content myself by merely stating that scarcely a Sunday now passes that the disturbance does not terminate in a fight. On one occasion, a soldier and a civilian, each striving to go contrary ways through the gate, at length came to blows. On a subsequent Sunday a similar conflict took place between a soldier and a policeman; and yesterday two men were fighting under my sitting-room windows for some considerable time. This latter encounter, especially, was not a mere skirmish; on the contrary, a ring was made, the men were each backed by a second: in fact, there was all the formula of a regular pitched battle.” Take, again, a short letter in _The Times_ of March 15th, 1855: “Allow me, through your columns, to caution the frequenters of Hyde Park against a gang of ruffians, who are in the habit of accosting ladies and female servants, and, under the pretence of asking the time of day, endeavouring to pick their pockets. Several ladies of my acquaintance, when walking in the Park with their children, have had narrow escapes of being robbed in this manner.”