["Mr. Ritchie ... has taken the unusual step of preparing a
memorandum explanatory of ... the Public Health (London)
Act, which comes into operation on the 1st of January ...
The Vestries and District Councils ... have come out with
increased powers, but also with increased responsibilities.
They are in future known as 'the sanitary authorities'; they
must make bye-laws, and enforce not only their own, but
those made by the County Council; and, if they fail in their
duty--as, for example, in the matter of removing house-refuse,
or keeping the streets clean--they are liable to a fine. It is
pleasant to think that, in future, any ratepayer may bring Mr.
Bumble to book."--_The Times_.]
[Illustration: _President of the Local Government Board_. "THERE'S MR.
BUMBLE'S WORK, MADAM, AND IT'LL BE YOUR OWN FAULT IF YOU DON'T KEEP
HIM UP TO IT!"]
_Bumble_. Wot, more dooties piled upon me? It's a beastly black shame
and a bore.
Which Ritchie beats _Oliver Twist_ in a canter at "asking for more."
Didn't grasp his dashed Hact, not at fust, though of course I opposed
it like fun;
But this 'ere Memyrandum's a startler. _I_ want to know what's to be done.
_Me_ keep the streets clean, _me_ go poking my dalicot nose into 'oles
As ain't fit for 'ogs, but is kep' for them Sweaters' pale wictims--pore
soles?
_Me_ see that the dust-pails is emptied, and underground bedrooms made
sweet?
_Me_ nail the Court Notices hup upon Butchers as deals in bad meat?
Great Scissors, it's somethink houtrageous. I knew Ritchie's Act meant
'ard lines,
And it's wus than I could 'ave emagined. But wot I funk most is them
FINES!!!
Fine _Me_--if I make a mistake, as, perhaps, even BUMBLE may do!
That _is_ turning the tables a twister! More powers? Ah, well, that
might do,
But increase my great "Responsibilities," give them Ratepayers a chance
Of a calling _me_ hover the coals! Won't this make my hold henemies dance?
I never did like that HYGEIA, a pompous and nose-poking minx--
A sort of a female _Poll Pry_, with a heye like an 'ork or a lynx;
But the making me "Sanit'ry," too--oh, I know wot _that_ means to a T.
She's cock--or say, hen--of the walk, and her sanit'ry slave'll be Me!
Oh, I fancy I see myself sweeping the snow from the streets with a broom,
Or explorin'--with fingers to nose--some effluvious hunderground room!
Or a-trotting around with the dust-pails when scavengers chance to run
short!
Oh, just _won't_ the street-boys chyike me and 'ousemaids of BUMBLE make
sport?
Disgustin'! But there RITCHIE stands with his dashed Memyrandum. A look
In his heye seems to tell me that he too enjoys bringing BUMBLE to book,
As the _Times_--I'm serprised at that paper!--most pleasantly puts it
to-day.
My friend BONES the Butcher too! Moses! wot _would_ my old parlour-chum
say
If he saw me a nailing a Notice--but no, that's too horrid a dream.
I must be a 'aving a Nightmare, and things cannot be wot they seem.
I could do with mere Laws--bye or hother-wise--Hacts, jest like Honours,
is easy,
But this Memyrandum of RITCHIE's queers BUMBLE, and makes him feel queasy,
Can't pertend as I don't hunderstand it, it's plain as my nose, clear as
mud.
_I'm_ responsible for--say Snow-clearing! It stirs up a Beadle's best
blood!
And when they can _Fine_ me for negligence, jest like some rate-paying
scrub--
Oh! Porochial dignity's bust! I must seek a pick-up at my Pub!
[_Does so._
* * * * *
[Illustration: A MODEST REQUEST.
"I HEAR YOU'RE SO CLEVER ABOUT ZENANA WORK. WILL YOU SHOW ME THE
STITCH?"]
* * * * *
"FIRST-CLASS" TRAVELLING
_MADE EASY, BY PAYING A "THIRD-CLASS" FARE AND A SMALL ADDITIONAL
TIP._
(BY ONE WHO HAS DONE IT.)
1. Arrive at station in four-wheeler, accompanied by lots of
superfluous rugs, wraps, air-cushions, and pillows, &c., and if
your domestic arrangements permit of it, two young ladies and one
middle-aged one, who should assume an anxious and sympathetic mien.
2. On your cab drawing up, stay with a gentle forbearance the rush
of the ordinary attentive porter, and request him, as if you had
something important to communicate, to send you "the guard of the
train" by which you propose to travel. On the appearance of this
official, who will not fail to turn up, you will now appeal to one of
your three female assistants, the middle-aged one for choice. Placing
your case, as it were, in her hands, she will, in a half-sympathetic,
half-commanding tone, address the official somewhat as follows:--"This
gentleman, who is travelling to Barminster, and is going third-class
(she makes a point of this), is, as you see, a great invalid, and
he will require (this with a certain sense of being understood to
mean a handsome tip) a carriage to himself." If said with a certain
self-assurance, involving a species of lofty wink, this will probably
be understood in the right sense by the official in question, and will
be probably met by some such assurance as--"The train is very full,
Madam, but I will do my best for the gentleman, and can ensure him, I
think, a compartment to himself, at least, as far as Bolchester, where
I leave the train. But I will explain the matter to my successor, and
I have no doubt that he will be able (this also with a significant
wink) to ensure the gentleman's seclusion. You are, I think, four? If
you will follow me, and take my arm, Sir, I think we shall be able to
manage it for you."
3. Enlist the assistance of several attendant porters, regardless
of apparent outlay, who have been fairly let into your secret, and
are prepared to, and in fact absolutely do, empty a third-class
compartment already packed with passengers for Barminster, who retreat
awe-stricken at your approach.
4. Immediately on taking possession of your carriage, recline the
whole length of the five seats, faced by your three sympathetic
and anxious-miened female companions. Be careful to give each of
the assistant porters certainly not less than sixpence apiece in
ostentatious fashion. Do not, however, as yet administer the shilling,
or perhaps, eighteenpence you purpose giving to the original guard of
the train who is to hand you over to the official who will have charge
of you after Bolchester.
5. You will possibly have a _mauvais quart d'heure_ before departure,
for though your guard, in hopes of the remunerative fee, will
have carefully locked you in, he will not be able to prevent the
calculating and more or less unfeeling British public, who, composed
of a party of nine, are looking for as many places as they can find
together, from discovering that you have six vacant places in your
carriage, and directing the attention of other railway officials, not
initiated into your secret agreement, to this circumstance. You must
therefore be prepared for some such curt brutality as, "Why, look
'ere, EMMA, there's room for 'arf-a-dozen of us 'ere!" or, "I'm
sure 'e needn't be a sprawlin' like that, takin' 'arf the carriage
to 'isself," a rebuke which your feminine supporters resent in
their severest manner. You are, however, at length saved by the
interposition of your guardian angel, who sweeps away the party of
nine unseated ones with a voice of commanding control, as much as to
say, "This isn't your end of the train; besides, can't you see the
poor gentleman's pretty well dying?" And he does hurry them off, and
pack them in somewhere or other, but whether to their satisfaction or
not, it is easier to hazard a guess than faithfully to record.
6. Bolchester is reached, and you are formally introduced to your
final guarding and protecting angel, who rapidly takes in the
situation, and by an assurance that he will see to your comfort,
this, accompanied by a slightly perceptible wink, leaves you in happy
expectation, which the result justifies, of reaching your destination
uninvaded.
* * * * *