Everyone must have observed a phenomenon of the London streets which
becomes continually more noticeable. And not only must they have
observed it, but have suffered from it.
At one time the omnibuses, which are rapidly becoming the only means
of street transport for human beings, had regular stopping-places at
the corner's of streets, at Piccadilly Circus, at Oxford Circus, and
so forth.
The corner was the accepted spot; the crowds gathered there, and the
omnibus, stopping there, emptied and refilled. But there has been a
gradual tendency towards the abandonment of the corners, causing the
omnibuses to pull up farther and farther from them, so that it seems
almost as if a time may come when, instead of Piccadilly Circus, for
example, the stopping-place for west-bound omnibuses will be St.
James's church.
Everyone, as I say, must have noticed this change in traffic habits,
and most people believe that police regulations are at the bottom of
it.
But I know better; and the reason why I know better is a little
conversation I have had with a driver.
It was during one of the finest efforts towards depressing dampness
that even this Summer has put up, and the driver dripped. A great
crowd of miserable mortals awaited his omnibus at a certain recognised
halt, all desperately anxious for a seat or even standing room; but
these he disregarded and carefully urged the vehicle on for another
twenty yards.
While the wretched people were running along the pavement to begin
their struggle for a place, I asked him why he had put them to all
that trouble.
"I suppose it's the police," I said, to make it easier for him.
"Not as I know of," he replied.
"But why not stop where the public expect you to?" I asked.
"Why?" he inquired.
"Well, it would be more reasonable, more helpful," I suggested.
"Who wants to help or be reasonable?" he replied. "Here, look at me.
I'm driving this bus for hours and hours every day. I'm cold and wet.
I'm putting on the brakes from morning to night, saving people's silly
lives, until I'm sick of the sight of them. If you was to drive a
motor bus in London you'd want a little amusement now and then, too."
"So it's just for entertainment that you dodge about over the
stopping-places and keep changing them?" I asked.
"Yes," he replied.
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