As I was waiting at the Arch for my omnibus, a fine, good-humoured looking policeman was pacing up and down. I went up to him, and began by asking him if there would soon be a Bayswater omnibus passing. Seeing him disposed to be chatty, I said to him, "They seem to make themselves at home in the park, those lovers! They don't budge for anybody." "No, sir; no, not they," he replied naïvely; "no fear!" _Où il y a de la gêne il n'y a pas de plaisir._ The policeman was evidently there at the entrance of the park to protect the sweethearts, and prevent anybody from disturbing them. I had always wondered why policemen were stationed outside the London parks, and never entered them after dusk. I understand at last: one does not take in everything at a glance. II. Declarations of love--Kisses--Disobliging Britons. I never much admired our manner of making love declarations in France. We go down on our knees, in our nineteenth-century costume, at the feet of a woman whom we allow from her superior height to contemplate us in all our servility. With her sweet, downcast eyes, this little demon of observation takes an inventory of our slightest blemishes: of our hair, that is not so luxuriant as it was; of our rounded upturned eyes, that appear to be all whites; of a small wart, that we fondly fancied no one noticed; of our dignity, that we have abdicated in going on our knees, to implore favours that we are destined to pay enough for, Heaven knows, and which, after all, mean promotion for her who grants them; for I maintain that a woman who marries is promoted over her sisters. Well I say it plainly, our part in this little scene is a supremely ridiculous one. If you are not of the same opinion, gentlemen, put the following question to yourselves: Should I ever think of being photographed in such a position? I await your reply. They manage these things differently in England. The favourite seat of young girls at home is a low chair, an ottoman, or very often a simple footstool. How often have I seen pretty daughters of Albion, and that in the best society, sitting Turkish fashion on the rug in front of the fire, on winter evenings, caressing one another, or listening, while some interesting novel was read aloud! These little scenes, full of charm, have often suggested to me sweet pictures of domestic happiness, in which each one plays the part that, according to my ideas, is most befitting.