countenance to vice and crime. Its derivation is said to be Bohemian, and the word was originally used in Austro-Hungary, where the Emperor-King Francis Joseph was called the “Pantata of his people.” The exact meaning of the word is father-in-law, and the New York pantata was thus esteemed the head of the criminal family. It was proved before the Lexow Commission that there were at that time no less than six hundred policy shops in active operation in the city working openly under police protection, and that they paid a fixed tariff of fifteen dollars per shop per month. The number of pool rooms was still larger, and they remained unmolested in consideration of payments amounting to a total of some three hundred dollars a month. The gaming that went on in the pool rooms appears to have been much akin to the Continental lottery system, and any sum could be staked, from one cent upwards. Another form of revenue raised by dishonest members of the police force was in levying commission upon the owners of property who had been robbed of valuables and were willing to pay to have them restored. The practice which obtained in this country during the earlier part of the present century is still in force in New York; it is possible to come upon the track of stolen property, and pawnbrokers or “fences” are prepared to hand it over on repayment of the advances made on it. But in carrying out the arrangements the police, of course, took toll, and were paid either commission or substantial gratuities by the owners they obliged.

4. Yet another indictment brought against the New York police was that of active interference with the purity of election. It was alleged to be the agent of a political party, its duty being to secure the return of the proper candidates, those of Tammany Hall. In carrying this out members of the force sometimes arrested and ill-treated the opposition voters; they canvassed for their own side, and, neglecting their proper functions as guardians of the peace, they became the agents of Tammany Hall. The ballot boxes were tampered with, and such frauds as personation and the repeated appearance of the same voter were winked at.

It was little likely that a force recruited and administered as regards promotion on corrupt lines would act otherwise than as has been set forth. In early days first appointments were not to be purchased for money, but the practice soon became general, and no one could be appointed a constable unless he paid for it, or had political friends. One Commissioner admitted that from 85 to 90 per cent. of all the appointments he made were at the instance of Tammany Hall. Yet there was at this time a Civil Service rule that all officers were to be appointed by open competition. It came to be a custom at last that every candidate should produce 300 dollars to a go-between, who passed it on to the police authorities; after this payment the examinations were made easy. The same rule as to payment was enforced for promotion. It cost 1,600 dollars to become a sergeant, and for a captaincy 15,000 dollars were paid. One witness, who was a police sergeant, told a remarkable story of his examination for one of these latter appointments. He had passed the prescribed examination three times in succession, and yet was no nearer nomination. His friends told him that this was simply waste of time, but he persisted for four years, trusting that his merits would be recognised, still steadfastly declining to bribe his superiors. Finally he consented, and was told that his promotion could be had for 12,000 dols. This money was subscribed by his friends, but then the price was raised to 15,000 dollars. Again it was subscribed, but became a bone of contention amongst the officials. At one time it looked as though even bribery would fail to secure the promotion, but they appeared at last to have divided the plunder to their mutual satisfaction, and the witness now became a captain.

It is only fair to the police of New York to credit them with considerable success in dealing with crime. Whatever suspicion may have rested on their good faith where offenders have been able to purchase their connivance, there is no doubt that a large number of crimes have always been detected and avenged in New York. They have to deal with cosmopolitan rogues drawn to the happy hunting ground of the New World, and with a large mass of indigenous crime of the most serious kind. The unlawful taking of life is very prevalent in the United States, where the percentage of murders is larger than anywhere in the world, but these crimes do not go largely unpunished. Again, the American “crook,” the bank robber, the burglar, the counterfeit-money maker, and the wholesale forger are to be met with in large numbers across the Atlantic, and the warfare against them is unceasing. It is true that the detective forces of the country are very much in private hands: agencies like Pinkerton’s have a fine record; the triumphs achieved by the breaking up of some of the Secret Societies in the south, such as the Molly McGuire and the Kluklux clans, are feats deserving the warmest recognition. At the same time, the detective bureau, composed of officers of Mulberry Street, has done excellent service, and Inspector Byrnes, its chief, has earned a high reputation in thief-taking.

The Detective Bureau of New York “has attained national importance,” says a writer who knows it and its services well. He instances especially the protection given to the great business centre of Wall Street at the time when the “down town” district was specially favoured of thieves and depredators. Robbery from the person, burglarious entrance to banking and other premises, the abstraction of money, bonds, and valuable papers used to be of constant occurrence. More recently the presence of a “crook” below a line drawn, say, through Fulton Street was primâ facie evidence against him, and he was then and there arrested, and called upon to give account of himself. Unless he could show good cause for venturing within the peculiar precincts of finance and commerce he was relegated to gaol. The detectives are always “on the spot,” ever keen and active in coping with the evil-doer. A dozen are always on duty at the Stock Exchange, where it is boasted that not a ten cent stamp has been stolen by a professional thief for years.

The ways of the New York detective are like those of the famous Ah Sing, “childlike and bland,” but no less astute and successful. They aim at prevention, and trust to it even more than to the pursuit subsequent to the commission of crime. It is an axiom with them to know their game by heart; they study the thoughts and idiosyncrasies, the plans and proceedings, of the criminal classes so closely that they can predicate what will be done under any particular circumstances, how the thief will act when planning, when executing, and, above all, when covering up his tracks after he has made his coup. One method followed with marked success is to keep their spies and assistants in the heart of the enemy’s camp. It is well known that criminals have little or no fidelity to each other, that “honour among thieves” is a mendacious adage provided any of them can see substantial profit in betraying his associates. The best officers make a point of keeping in touch with the “crooks,” visiting them frequently in their favourite resorts, and hearing all the movements and the news. Matters in progress, the activity or otherwise of well-known practitioners, are thus ascertained, for the high-flyer in crime generally knows what others of his class are about, and is willing to pass it on for a consideration, or to stand well with the police.

New York possesses its Black Museum, its treasure-house of criminal relics akin to that which may be viewed at the headquarters