way of street dangers to encounter, until the
pedestrian gets to Charing-cross, unless, indeed,
he daringly tries in Fleet-street or the Strand
to cross from the one side to the other. But
whatever perils he may meet in the west,
they are as nothing when compared to those
of the east, and, what is more, the police at
the west keep vehicles of all sorts in far better
order than is ever attained in the City.

The Times recently informed us that, every
year, two hundred and twenty-three people are
killed by carts or carriages in our thoroughfares.
Is it not rather monstrous that the
casualties in the streets should be so numerous?
At this rate, about two people are murdered
every three days, when attempting to walk
peacefully in the metropolis of the world.

Can nothing be done to prevent this great
and increasing evil?

Then, again, there are the stoppages in the
City, which, although a minor evil, are very
provoking and annoying. It was only a few
days before Christmas, that, being in a Hansom
cab on my way to the Great Eastern Railway
station, I got jammed up in Worship-street, and
for nearly three-quarters of an hour did not
move an inch one way or another. Of course I
lost my train. What caused this stoppage?
One of my old bloodthirsty enemies, a van.
The driver of this nuisance had got his vehicle
wedged up in a narrow street; he would
not move one way or another until he had
leisurely unladen an immense load of goods.
When the drivers of any of the vehicles that
were blocked up by his leviathan expostulated
with him, he blasphemed to a horrible extent.
In front of my cab, was an old lady in a Brougham,
who, as her coachman said, was anxious to catch
the train for Harwich, en route to Rotterdam.
Would the van-driver budge an inch for that
carriage? Not if he knew it. He cursed the
coachman, he cursed the carriage that the
coachman drove, he cursed the horse that
drew the carriage. When he caught sight
of the old lady, he cursed her. He said he
would not move until he had finished what he
was about, and he did not move. At last a
policeman was brought out of Shoreditch, and
apparently could do nothing, and certainly
did it.

Many of us have seen how in foreign cities
the traffic is managed by a few mounted
gendarmes, who oblige the vehicles to go right and
left, and each kind of vehicle to keep its own
track. In England, we are so very much afraid
of interfering with the liberty of the subject, that
sooner than put coercion upon one ill-conditioned
rascal, we permit a hundred good men
to be inconvenienced and endangered. But, as
we cannot, for financial reasons, enlarge our
streets, we must adapt our traffic to existing
streets, and the traffic must be kept in order by
a very much stronger hand. In almost every
leading direction throughout the City, there can
be found two streets leading to the same
destination. In all such cases carriages and other
vehicles going west should be made to take
one road, and those going east, the other. No
doubt some little inconvenience would be
experienced by those who wanted to stop at a
particular house in a particular street; but would
not that be better than the present universal
inconvenience, delay, and danger?

Then as to the foot-passengers; surely with
a few more policemen in the principal streets—
mounted men detailed for this especial duty—
the carriages, carts, and busses, might be made
to keep a small interval between each other,
and might be obliged to drive slowly at the
crossings.

Vans ought on no account whatever to be
allowed in the streets between the hours of
eight in the morning and six in the evening.
They spread terror and desolation wherever they
go. They are driven by unmannerly louts, who
take pleasure in doing as much damage as
possible. They have no varnish or paint which can
be spoiled, and, being heavier than anything
they can meet, they are in no danger of being
overturned, and so don't care what they run
against. They have their horses so harnessed
as that the driver—who is no driver but a mere
holder of reins—has little command over them,
even if he were able or disposed (which he never
is) to exercise any for the general convenience.
It may be said that these conveyances are requisite
for the carrying to and fro of goods required
at warehouses, and that it would be a case of
peculiar hardship if the persons employed at those
establishments were obliged to begin business
very early, or transact business very late. To
this objection it is enough to oppose the general
principle, that the convenience of the few must
yield to that of the many.

After the van, there is perhaps nothing that
goes upon wheels which requires so much looking
after as the omnibus. It is a curious fact,
that just as a big fat man seems invariably to get
into tight-fitting clothes, so a London bus is sure
to find its way into the narrowest streets in the
City. There is hardly a day on which two of
these vehicles fail to meet and stop each other
in Threadneedle-street: a thoroughfare so very
narrow that no great carriage should ever be
allowed to go up or down it. But these two big
blundering busses find their way thither, stop up
the whole street against themselves and the rest
of the public, and distribute language which is
in itself a public nuisance. The community in
general, and the driving portion of that
community in particular, has a lesson to learn, which
must be taught it by a stricter police in the streets.
And that lesson is, that every man must give
way, more or less, to his neighbour: the general
good being of far more importance than
individual convenience. There is an old parrot
expression, first coined in Bumbledom, about self-
government and non-interference with vested
rights. When that is less heard, and the public
good is more considered, we may expect that
our streets will not be, as they are now, everywhere
to the eastward of Temple Bar, the worst-
regulated thoroughfares in Europe, without any
exception; and we may hope that something