To most of us modest folk a police officer looks not an inch less than eight feet in height,—and his blue coat and brass buttons typify the majesty and inflexibility of the law. At his most trivial gesture the coachmen rein in their curvetting steeds upon the crowded thoroughfare, and at his lightest word the gaping pedestrian obediently "moves on." When necessity compels we address him deprecatingly and, as it were, with hat in hand, and if he deign to listen to us, and still more if he condescend to reply, we thrill with pride. We experience a certain surprise that he has seen fit to give heed to us at all and has not, instead, ordered us roughly about our business with threatening mien and uplifted club. That he has rendered us assistance fills us with humble gratitude. One feels like Dr. Holmes,