THE POLICEMAN.

New Zealand Times, Volume XXX, Issue 4559, 30 October 1875, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE POLICEMAN.

(Prom the Liberal Lev tew.) The policeman is a curiosity who may be seen in the middle of one street when there is a row going on in the next. Consequently, it is very evident that ha is a valuable curiosity, for if he were not he would surely be found in the midst of at least half of the scrimmages which take place. That he is not, saves him a great deal of trouble and probably some broken bones. The policeman, though he is a curiosity, is supposed to have a number of duties. Some of these he performs and some of them he neglects. Amongst those which he performs are (1) that of always touching his hat to a mayor, alderman, town councillor, magistrate, or swell who, there is reason to believe, has more money than brains ; (2) that of continually being in the way whenever any of the above potential individuals are giving balls and require their guests to be safely seen into carriages; (3) that of “run-ning-in" small boys who are guilty of malpractices—he also “runs in” those who are not offenders, but in doing this he exceeds his duty, though many people may not think so; (4) that of looking up publicans and the like; (5) that of using his truncheon as occasion may require; (6) that of giving his evidence as if he meant it, and as if he did not care a jot for all the attorneys in the world. Amongst the duties which the policeman will not condescend to perform are (1) that of “ taking-up " gentlemen of influence or means when they are seen in the street the worse for liquor; (2) that of declining a drink when it is offered him while he is on duty; (3) that of making a point of keeping sober; (4) that of always being in the way when he is wanted by the public. The policeman is a magnificent creature. As he basks in the sunshine on a bright day in the midst of a fashionable crowd, he is at once a remarkable and an attractive object, notwithstanding that, in a general way, his gloves do not fit him, and that he does not appear quite at his ease in his helmet. He is also a wonderfully discriminating mortal. This is particularly apparent upon the occasion of public celebrations when “the mob" have to be kept back—given that there is a certain place into which he has instructions that only a select few are to be admitted, he will perform his duty in a peculiarly graceful manner. When his fiery glances fail to drive back those who wear common clothes, his hands or feet quickly effect the desired object; but nothing can be mose charming than his frank recognition of the claims of those whose garments are evidently the handiwork of some fashionable tailor. Such is his zeal in the respective directions indicated that he very frequently “preserves” many places which he has no right to so treat. But though the policeman is such a magnificent individual, be becomes, very condescending at times. He will occasionally eat cold mutton and drink beer upon the invitation of maid-servants ; he will call upon piblioans with praiseworthy regularity—just after “ closing time" in particular—and by drinking their healths (at their expense) show them that ho bears them no ill-feeling ; he will occasionally generously put young fellows up to a thing or two when they are knocking about town late at night ; he will freely enter into affable conversation with parties who have tobacco that they are prepared to part with ; and he will even go so far as to deign to pretend to submit to the authority of his inspector and the head constable.

There are one or two peculiar things about policemen. One is that he is never without a watch many weeks after he has joined the force ; another is that, though he is purely and simply a working man himself, ho despises his own order and looks down with contempt upon fustian, which he snubs and abuses whenever he can comfortably do so. The policeman is the life of the comic scenes of a pantomime. He is a never-ending source of amusement to small boys, who call him bobby, peeler, blueskin, and the like. He affords much excitement to night owls. He is regarded as a protector by old women, male and female, who invariably make a point of calling him officer, except in the event of their wishing to bo extra conciliatory, when they call him Mr. Officer, whereat he smiles sweetly. Yet—and this is the saddest fact that we know of in connection with him—the policeman receives for his labors something under thirty shillings per week. Oh ! parsimonious public.