for hours and hours, day after day. The active army of police out of doors, which constitutes the second half of the whole machine, is divided into two classes: that in uniform and that in plain clothes. Every visitor to Paris is familiar with the rather theatrical-looking policeman, in his short frock coat or cape, smart _képi_ cocked on one side of his head, and with a sword by his side. This _agent_, _sergent de ville_, _gardien de la paix_--he is known by all three titles--has many excellent qualities, and is, no doubt, a very useful public servant. He is almost invariably an old soldier, a sergeant who has left the army with a first-class character, honesty and sobriety being indispensable qualifications. Our own Metropolitan Police is not thus recruited: the Scotland Yard authorities rather dislike men with military antecedents, believing that army training, with its stiff and unyielding discipline, does not develop that spirit of good-humoured conciliation so noticeable in our police when dealing with the public. Something of the same kind is seen in Paris; for it is said that it takes two or three years to turn the well-disciplined old soldier into the courteous and considerate _sergent de ville_. His instructions are, however, precise; he is strictly cautioned to use every form of persuasion before proceeding to extremities, he is told to warn but not to threaten, very necessary regulations when dealing with such a highly strung, excitable population as that of Paris. The same _sergents de ville_ are stationed in the same quarter of the town, so that they become more or less intimately acquainted with their neighbours and charges. They are thus often enabled to deal with them in a friendly way; a little scolding is found more effective than intimidation, and strong measures may be avoided by tact and forbearance.