your hotel in an oriental omnibus. We note these facts out of a partiality we have for this cosmopolitan carriage, whose practical utility cannot be overrated; and because we entertain a suspicion that the class of employés connected with its working are not properly appreciated by the travelling public.

We do not mean to deny that the conductors and drivers frequently assume too much licence in their use of the vernacular. They havea gift of speech sometimes which we would willingly dispense with. They attire themselves occasionally in a fashion that inspires an involuntary disrelish for their society, and makes impressionable people suspect that they are no better than they should be. But it ought to be remembered, that the kind of life they lead is totally different from that of the rest of the world. They are in the open air in all weathers, from morning till night; they have only some four or five hours for sleep; hardly any time to snatch their broken meals, which, in some cases, they are compelled to despatch on the road; and as to leisure for cultivating ameliorating tendernesses in the society of their wives and children (incumbrances which most of them seem to take upon them by way of establishing a shadowy point of contact with humanity, from which they are otherwise cut off) alas! there is no such sweetness in their cup. These peculiarities of their state ought to be taken into consideration; and it should not be forgotten, moreover, that they are thrown into daily collision with a greater variety of crabbed and overbearing tempers, and encounter more perplexing varieties of social idiosyncrasies, than any other class of officials extant. Making reasonable allowance, therefore, for their scanty opportunities of picking up personal amenities, and the sore temptations and provocations to which they are exposed in the opposite direction, we think they are fairly entitled to a larger measure of toleration than they usually receive.

We have studied these people a little, and know them as well as they are likely to be known out of their own special knots and fraternities; and the reader who cares to philosophize for five minutes over the cha

racter of this section of our street notabilities, shall have some of the results of our investigations.

They used to have a club or association somewhere in the neighbourhood of the Post-office, where they entered into subscriptions for common purposes, such as the payment of fines incurred for racing and other violations of the law, to which their calling rendered them amenable. But that club is either broken up, or hangs very loosely together. The rivalries of masters rendered it impossible to preserve an interest in common amongst the servants, whose fidelity to their individual employers is one of the singular traits that mark out this class of servants from all others. There have been combinations of masters against the public, and even against their own men; but we never heard of a combination of the omnibus men against the omnibus proprietors. They always support their own masters against the field. In their allegiance to this principle, many of them have run great risks, and undergone severe punishments.

The hardship of their lives, and the variety of accidents and ailments to which they are continually exposed, formed the subject of a confidential revelation with which we were once favoured, on a night journey, by a coachman, muffled up to the eyes, who spoke to us in a hoarse voice, through a thick comforter. The man had a face spotted over by wind and rough weather, yet not wanting in a certain kindliness of expression, which kindled up when he found anybody to whom he could unburthen his thoughts. We shall see something of their lives in this colloquy.

It's all very well, sir,' said he, in the summer time; but when winter comes-my eyes! then you begin to feel it. The way it comes upon me is in the rheumatiz all over. There isn't as much of me as you could write your name on that doesn't ache like fun; and it flies about in such a manner that you never can tell by no means where it is. I should like to know how the

doctor would cure such a mortality as that. They never can do it. They may feel your pulse, and turn up the whites of their eyes, but it's all gammon. You see, there are two or

three different kinds of that vicious complaint. There's what they call the rheumatics, which runs through you like needles; but, lord love you! it's nothing to the rheumatiz! Why, I've had it so bad, that my arm has dropped down dead, and I could no more hold the reins than if I were a sucking babby. I put it all down to a wetting got on the 6th of April last was a twelvemonth. It rained that day from morning till night. You see, our governor doesn't allow us aprons, and we're obliged to get them ourselves. He is the only master on the road that doesn't allow aprons. It's very hard on us to be obliged to furnish ourselves, for I can get no kind of apron fit to put over a gentleman less than 21. 5s. That's as much as two weeks' wages, and a day over. Well, in course, I had no apron, and I was wet clean through twice over, and the clothes dried on my back. It don't stand to reason that that could be good for me, and so, as you might expect, the wet struck into me, and gave me a shivering; but I had no time to coddle up, and it got worse and worse, and then I got what they call a cold in the system, and it settled in my bones, and I've had the rheumatiz off and on ever since.'

We suggested the use of Mackintoshes, which produced some practical remarks thereupon.

'I don't think much of those Mackintoshes; they stop the perspiration. I had a brother once that was bordering on a decline, and he got one made to fit tight like a coat. He wore it a whole winter, and was laid up at last, and died; and the doctor said that he might have lived a little longer, only for the Mackintosh. He put it down to that; therefore, they're bad things for the constitution.'

Upon the subject of horses, we derived the following suggestive information:

Horses are of all natures. Some on 'em shy wonderful at anything white. I had a horse once that was so frightened at an oyster-shell in Cheapside, that she started all of one side, and knocked me right up against a hackney-coach, and I tumbled the hackney-coachman into a fly, and sent the fly right smack into one of the grand windows. Now,

just look at this here mare on the near side. She's a rare devil for cantering; there now, off she goesand the more I whip her, the more she canters. She has no sense, the beast, to canter in that manner in harness! But it's no use; wet or dry, rain or shine, she will canter. She's an ignorant beast, and there's no teaching of her nohow.'"

There is a sense of humour and a slang peculiar to these people, who, like the rest of the class from which they spring, are fond of personal jokes. On the great western road, a few years ago, there was an omnibus cad who was familiarly known amongst his fellows under the sobriquet of Shakspeare.' Not being able to perceive any points of resemblance between the poet and the sallow youth who rejoiced in his name, we inquired why he was so called, and were informed that it was on account of his foolish antics.' It seems that the fellow had a fund of ready humour and high spirits at his command, and was always spending his money; and that constituted amongst them the popular idea of Shakspeare.

There is a generic difference between drivers and conductors. The latter, as a class, are younger, sprucer, livelier, and more knowing. Their direct and open intercourse with the passenger world impresses greater confidence and audacity upon their manners. They have also higher pretensions in other respects, being, in consequence of the responsibility of their situation, frequently selected from the families of the proprietors as spies upon the coachman, over whom they sometimes exercise an irritating sort of despotism, which keeps the man in a state of fret, and worry, and objurgation all day long. The conductor, no doubt, has much reason to plume himself upon the importance of his position; the whole income of the omnibus passes through his hands without check or control; and to his mendacity and powers of face are confided the whole of that delicate diplomacy on the flags, which we observe when an unprotected female is contended for by two rival cads, and upon the success of which the income of the omnibus mainly depends. If the conductor be a liberal spirit, he shares a little

dividend with the driver at the end of the journey, keeping, of course, the lion's share for himself, and, under the worst circumstances, contrives out of his employer's money to pay the expenses of the day.

;

The driver is usually a more saturnine person than the conductor a family man, who has had graver experiences in life, and who nurses continually in his ruminations, curiously intermixed with gall and pride, all the traditions that have descended to him concerning the dignity of the reins. The solitariness of his functions, compared with those of the conductor, throws him in upon himself, and engenders a variety of quaint and odd views of things in his mind, which he is fond of venting when he falls in with a willing listener. The subjects that chiefly occupy his attention are the incidents of the road, foreign politics, the maiming and shoeing of horses, taxation, magistrates' decisions, the law of licences and badges, and the infamous conduct of the police in reference to omnibuses. Upon this last theme we were much enlightened by a sallow coachman on the Great Western road, not very long ago. It was his cheval de bataille; and the low and measured tone of voice in which he expressed his indiguation against the police, aided by a certain gentility of style which he derived from the excessive macilence of his face and figure, gave a kind of weight and authority to his statements. He began with an illustration of police oppression.

Just as I was a-going through Fleet-street, as it might be on this very spot, a feller came out right before the horses' heads, and bid me stop. Well, I'm blessed if he didn't take my number, and pull me up; and what d'ye suppose it was all for? Why, nothing in the world but because one of my brutes had a sore shoulder, emaciated like. I told him it were no business of mine; for how could I say to the governor, I wouldn't drive the beast? But it was no use. Them 'ere fellers have no feelings for the like of us; and so he fined me fifty bob and costs, and told me never to drive no animal of that kind no more. That's what you call justice. How could I help the brute having a sore shoulder?'

VOL. XLV. NO. CCLXV.

Enlarging upon the general subject of police law, he went into further revelations :

'They're a-going to put an end to all stoppages. They wont allow us to stop nowhere. I wonder what they'll do next. I suppose they'll make the hackneys keep moving as well as us. I don't see the difference -doesn't it stand to reason? If an omnibus aint allowed to stand, why should the jarvies? I dare say, now, they'll make all the cabs parade through the streets-what a fine sight that'll be of a wet day! And I'd like to know where you'd get a cab, if you wanted one in a hurry? If there was no stand, you know, they might all be in a manner walking their horses like fun half a mile off. They wont let us stop nowhere, except to take up and let down. What do they mean by that? Suppose I stop at the Cellar, and just run into the public, thinking I've a fare inside, what could they do to me? Would they call that an obstruction? for, you see, it's all of an obstruction they indict us for. I wish I could get a squint at the act to see what they mean by an obstruction. That's the point. You see, formerly they never could touch us long busses, by reason we weren't under what you call the Metropolitan Act; and when I jibed the sergeant with that, he said, Young man, you're out; it's under the Police Act you're liable.' There's gibberish for you. Who can tell what the Police Act is? The police can make any Act they like for themselves, and this Police Act is over the Metropolitan Act, so that you're never safe. But some of the chaps will stop for all that, and try it on.'

Questioning him upon the subject of a club for meeting the expenses of these cases, he observed

Some people think we've a club amongst ourselves, and that all the damage is paid out of the subscriptions. No such a thing. That would never do. If that were the case, the industrious man would have nothing to do but just to put his hand in his pocket everlasting to pay for the scamps. I know some of them chaps as would have a gallop whenever it come into their heads, if they weren't to pay for it out of their

с

own earnings. All they'd say would be- Now, then-here's for twenty shillings' worth!' and let fly like mad in a hand gallop: the club 'll pay.' But when they have to pay themselves, it makes them crafty. No, sir, the club wouldn't do for the old 'uns.'

Of the operation of the Police Act-which he seemed to consider a piece of volunteer and entirely irresponsible legislation -he furnished some curious particulars.

'As for them police, the way of it is, they haul you up, take off your badge, and keep it as long as they like, without giving you no manner of satisfaction. We never know what it's about by no means; and though I might be, in a manner, as innocent as the unborn babe, I can't help myself, nor nobody for me. Yet this is what they call a free country. And them badges-of what use is them badges? Now, here it is buttoned up under my coat-who's to know whether I have it on or no? And if they did, what's the good? No man was ever a better man for a badge. It's all jobbing, that's what it is, and to give them police a right over us. You see, we're compelled to pay for a strap, and to leave our badge four days to have it put on. Isn't that curious? If any one on us was to be without it for an hour, bless you, we'd be hauled up immediately; but they don't mind our going without it four days when it suits their convenience: and then they give us a bit of a note from the saddler to explain if any one asks for our badge. I'd like to know where the money goes to that pays for the strap; and besides, what right have they to cut out a piece of the badge -it belongs to the owner. You see, that's what I complain of-the doings of them police. Why don't Why don't they let it stay with the magistrate? When a man formerly misbehaved himself, and was in liquor or the like, he was caught up before a magistrate and fined, and there was an end of it. No malice, you see, at either side. But it's quite different since it has come into the

hands of the police. They look back into a man's life. They ain't content that a man should be sober and industrious, but they must go

about picking holes in him; and if they find a thing agen him ten years back, they take away his licence.'

This appeared to us somewhat arbitrary, and we begged an expla

nation.

You see, here it is. They go to his lodging and make inquiries, and find out everything. There was a man I knowed that was convicted of horse-stealing, and transported for fifteen years. Well, at the end of seven year, Sir George Grey gave him a release in regard of his conduct being so good; so he come home, and got married, and has five children, and took to driving a bus, and no man could be more respectable. But the police found out all about the transportation, and hauled him up, and took his badge from him, and so, says he, What do you want me to do? Am I to go thieve again?' Now, understand me, I don't vindicate horse-stealing by no means; but I do say that when a man conducts himself proper, his faults shouldn't be brought up agen him. Why, you see, according to that, no man is ever to get up agen, but once down, must be driven to rob and murder for a livelihood. That's not what they preach to us at church of a Sunday; but look at their practice that's my way of looking on it. And so my friend says, says he, I don't value your authority a rush,' says he: 'I'll go to your master.' And off he goes with a petition to Sir George Grey, who immediately writes down a letter to Mayne, and sets it all right agen. And there's my friend and his five children a driving of the omnibus as lively as ever.'

Hush! There is a crash of thunder in the church steeples-a tremendous burst of wild, broken, clanging sounds on the air, as if all the tongues of all the bells in the metropolis were gone mad, and beating out the iron jaws in which they are shut up. We must put an end to this pleasant, queer talk on the top of the omnibus; and joining in the music of the belfries, wish ‘solidarity' to all the 'peoples,' and a Happy New Year, and a full gale of prosperity in their sails to carry them into port safely this day twelve months.