Terrible things have been happening in Newcastle. If any one doubts this
statement, let him read the following extract from one of the local
papers. "Though it is a good while," observes a leader-writer, "since it
could be said with justice that the trade of the country was advancing
by leaps and bounds, the observation may with absolute accuracy be made
with respect to our Newcastle rates. They have stolen along with woollen
feet, and are now about to strike with iron hands."
* * *
I bow to the ground in awe-struck admiration before this picture
of rates stealing along on woollen feet and raising iron hands for a
deadly blow at the unfortunate ratepayers of Newcastle. There is
something fell and savage in the mere contemplation of it. Prose is
quite inadequate to it; it demands rhyme, and must have it:--
Consider Newcastle, its pitiful case,
Where the rates have a habit of stealing.
'Tis a way they are prone to in many a place,
And they do it without any feeling.
They move without noise, and they thus get the pull,
Like a cab with a new rubber tyre on;
For their feet, it is said, are a compound of wool,
Though the hands that they strike with are iron.
The vision appals me, one glimpse is enough;
With terror my bosom is heaving.
Yet I venture the hint--do not treat it as stuff--
That steel were more suited for thieving.
* * *
Something always appears to be wrong with the streets of Bristol. I had
to notice the melancholy case of Christmas Street last week. The
epidemic has now extended to Old Market Street. Here the pitching is so
dangerous that horses fall and break their legs, and ladies die from
falls on Easter Mondays. A correspondent who calls attention to this
matter says that "it is quite annoying on a busy day to have to ask
customers two, three, or even four times what they require." I scarcely
see what this has to do with the pavement, but personally I have always
found it more than annoying to be asked four times as much as I require,
even when my requirements are small, as they usually are. It is
gratifying to find that, in Old Market Street, at any rate, the
shopkeeper who asks has an equal share of annoyance.
* * *
Then again, Conduit Place, Lower Ashley Road, is not only badly
lighted, but its name is practically unknown. "Even shopkeepers in the
neighbourhood and policemen on the beat do not seem to know of it, and
sometimes lead people astray in consequence." This, however, is not to
be wondered at, as "another difficulty is the numbering of the houses;
although only about thirty in the road, they are divided into five
terraces with different sets of numbers, which causes endless
confusion."
* * *
Increase not, wanderer, the policeman's load;
Ask not the site of Lower Ashley Road.
Inquire not eagerly for Conduit Place,
But start unasking on thy terraced chase.
These places to policemen are unknown,
So shall the pride of finding be thine own.
Go forth, go forth, itinerary pundit,
And find the place that takes its name from Conduit.
Thy journey, after many a turn and twist'll
Land thee at Lower Ashley Road in Bristol.
Then pause, and, having raised a thankful voice,
Take 'midst five terraces thy doubtful choice;
And, envied by policemen on their beats,
Return, a lexicon of Bristol streets.
* * *
But the badness of the streets and the ignorance of policemen as to
their whereabout is nothing to the annoyance caused by the Salvation
Army bands near St. Clement's Church in Newfoundland Road. "On Ascension
Day," the Vicar writes, "our service was completely stopped for several
minutes, as the preacher, who had a bad cold, was unable to shout above
the din of the passing drum." I shudder to imagine what would have been
the plight of the congregation if the preacher had been free from cold,
and capable of shouting down a drum.
* * *
Rowing and cricket are more closely connected than many people suppose.
In an account of the Oxford eight-oared bumping races, I read that "New
College started at a tremendous bat." This of course accounts for the
bawling on the bank by which these races are always accompanied. Further
on it is stated that "New College finished at 40, all out"--which seems
rather a small score.
* * *
I commend the brevity of the Mayor of Cambridge, Mr. HYDE HILLS, who,
being obviously above Hyde Park, does not condescend to the verbosity of
the spouters who on Sundays congregate in that locality. The other day
Mr. HYDE HILLS was elected to be an Alderman, and all he said was, "I
thank you." This is _optimi exempli_, especially for Aldermen.
* * *
Lately I came across the following touching appeal of an impecunious son
to his father:--
Sir,--I have piles of bills,
Regular miles of bills;
My banking account's in a hash.
All on the debtor side,
Nought on the better side;
The balance you'd hardly call "cash."
'Tis terrible when you're reduced thus to penury,
Even if _that's_ nothing new.
Hope! Can I dream of it?
Yes, there's a gleam of it;
My quarter's allowance is due!
* * *
At the Bigg Market in Newcastle was recently held what a local paper
describes as "a demnostration in favour of temperance reform."
"Demnostration" is a delightful word. It seems to express in the most
compact form enthusiasm and strong language.
* * * * *
A QUESTION OF POLICE.--A few days since Liverpool set another lesson to
London. No doubt with the consent of the Liverpudlians (inclusive of
"the dangerous classes"), the local police force had a grand field-day.
To quote our excellent contemporary, the _Courier_, "those who witnessed
the police's steady march through the streets in three battalions, and
their effectively-performed manoeuvres in Sefton Park, would hardly
realise what the turn-out meant to most of the men. They were on duty
through the night, and had very little rest before they had to parade
for inspection (with the march-out and review), and the weather being
warm, the display involved fatigue, so that the refreshments provided
were very welcome." Yes, and no doubt well deserved. But why should
London wait? Why should not we have something of the same kind? We might
have a grand Police Review in Hyde Park. All that would be necessary
would be to arrange that the metropolitan thieves should keep the
ground!
* * *
PROVERBIAL PARLIAMENTARY ECONOMY, OR SHORT COMMONS FOR UPPER
HOUSE.--Don't spare the Black Rod, and then you won't have to spoil the
Upper-Housemaid.
* * * * *
[Illustration: "WHAT A KNIGHT WE'RE HAVING!"
_David Garrick._ "CONGRATULATE YOU, SIR HENRY! IN THE NAME OF THE
PROFESSION! 'MAY YOU LIVE LONG, AND PROSPER!'"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: HINTS FOR THE PARK.