wanted--ascended and been too late. So have generals often; and is there perfection to be found upon this earth? "Nary bit of it." Palliate, then, the policeman's weak points, and as none but the brave deserve the fair, let the brave have his desert. Is he not a part of our very being as a nation, the common object of our crowd? Who knows this better than the playwright, who sends him across the stage in a long string, like the soldiers or geese of our childhood's day upon the scissor-working framework; who puts him into every imaginable difficulty, and bruises, batters, and beats him in a way most insufferable? But K9 in the gallery sees it all, smiles with disdain, and looks down upon the get up of his fictitious representative, who is as true to life as the Franco-Anglais of the Parisian stage; and seated in plain clothes beside Mary, cook from Number 34, Eating-street, he nudges that lady, and as the broad hint is reciprocated, they smile with contempt at the "Guy Fawkes" thing presented to them. From whatever point of view the policeman is taken, the first thing which strikes the observer is the dress; and once more, glancing at his helmet, is it not everything that it should not be? Perhaps it is useful, as none other is provided, but it is decidedly not ornamental, for it is grotesque, hideous, unsightly, and contemptible. It wants the grandeur of the old Roman, the graceful curve of the Grecian, the stiffness of the Prussian, the weight of the dragoon's, and the gloss of the fireman's, while as for comfort--who will put it to the test? Take his appearance in a street scuffle, an affair in which the police have, ere now, been engaged; half his time is taken up in endeavouring-- generally unsuccessfully--to keep his helmet in its place, but, as a rule, it rolls into the gutter, to be crushed by trampling feet. Feet! Yes, that brings us to his feet, though t'were almost bootless to name them, since they are often nearly in that condition. The "strong, serviceable bluchers" supplied by Government contractors always seem to be made upon the principle of "small profits and quick returns," which being interpreted means small profit to the wearer and quick return to elementary constituents. Did not some great man--a city fortifier--once declare that there was nothing like leather? How true: how striking! But how much more so is the increased significance given to the adage when we say there is nothing like contractor's leather? There is nothing like it anywhere, and considering its wondrous durability, why should not some firm commence making papier mache boots? They would be equally durable, far cheaper, while, as to fit, that does not matter, since Government contractors evidently believe that police bunions have no existence, while corns never crop out from legal toes.