CHAPTER IV

TRAFFIC WORKERS

The traffic worker and the public safety—“Privileged cabs”—Railway workers—The hours of signalmen—The seven day week—“Blacklisting”—London’s omnibus men—Paying the police for leave to work—“The rest of the evening”—What is required of a driver—What is required of a conductor—Wages stopped for fogs, fires and processions—Curiosities of an “Accident Club”—How a motor man is “passed” for a licence—The “journey system”—What it means to the passenger—What it means to the men—Breakdowns—Wages in the garage—3d. a day for uniform—“The bar up”—The best employer in London—Tram men under the London County Council.

In these days of much journeying, there is scarcely one of us whose life and safety do not depend, again and again, upon the skill, the steadiness, the nerve and the judgment of the men who steer our public conveyances. Not only in their own interests, therefore, but in the interest of public security, it is essential that the men upon whom rests so vast a responsibility should not be overworked, underpaid nor harassed. The sad fact is, however, that the vast majority of them are both overworked and harassed; and that, if not the majority, at least a very appreciable minority are decidedly underpaid.

Of cabmen I do not propose to speak; the subject of their hours, conditions and rates of pay being so intricate that anything like a general view is difficult to present. I will content myself with indicating, by means of a paragraph from a Parliamentary Report, the kind of exactions to which cabmen are exposed. “Privileged cabs” are those admitted, upon payment of a fixed charge, to ply in railway stations. It appears that the lowest charge made by any company maintaining the privileged cab system is 1s. per week. The smallest number of cabs is “15, at Clapham Junction, and the largest number of cabs, 290, at Paddington, which at 3s. per week provide the Great Western Railway with the substantial sum of £2262 per annum.”[28]

The railway workers of Great Britain are, as a class, men of excellent character, intelligent, careful, attentive and worthy of the trust reposed in them. They have a strong trade union, and their secretary now sits in Parliament. Yet this body of grown men, most of them voters, was so unable to secure from its employers a reasonably short working day that the legislature, unwilling though it has always shown itself to any direct regulation of the working hours of men, felt compelled in the interests of public safety, to intervene; and a special order of the Board of Trade has, for many years past, limited the hours of railway men. Yet, even now, there are porters, generally at small stations, who are on duty for 16 hours a day; and 8 hours, which should be the longest day of any signalman, are extended, except in the busiest boxes, to 10 and, in some cases, to 12. Many a porter works seven days a week for 16s., perhaps at some small station where “tips” are infrequent. In this connection it is worthy of note that such companies as pay additionally for Sunday labour find it possible to do with much fewer workers on Sundays. Of how much improvement the railway man’s lot is still susceptible may be judged from the programme of the union, drawn up at the close of 1906, and about to be submitted to the various companies. Its demands are as follows:—

An eight-hour day for trainmen, shunters and signalmen.

No railway employee to work more than ten hours a day.

An increase of 2s. per week in the wages of all grades receiving less than 30s. per week.

Sunday labour to be paid for at the rate of time and a half; and overtime at the rate of time and a quarter.[29]

The worst form of oppression, however, to which the railway man is exposed is one very difficult to prove and very easy to deny: “blacklisting.” A railway servant, on leaving the employ of one company, (whether at the company’s instance or at his own) receives no written character, nor can he refer any intending employer to the report of his immediate superior. Enquiry must be made at headquarters; and it seldom happens that a man who, for whatever cause, has left the service of one company, succeeds in getting taken on by another. The men are convinced that a deliberate understanding exists, and this conviction leads many of them, unwillingly subservient, to endure the ills they have, rather than face loss of employment and of pay. Any trade that is in the hands—as the railway industry of course is—of comparatively few and very powerful employers is especially liable to develop the tyranny of “blacklisting.” The existence of the practice is almost invariably denied, and can, in the nature of things, very seldom be substantiated; but it is possible to remark that, as a matter of experience, one company does not engage the man who has previously worked for another. The men know, experimentally, that to leave their present employers means, in the great majority of cases, leaving the industry altogether. How much such knowledge must sap a man’s independence, how much it must try his nerves and his temper, it is, surely, unnecessary to insist.

The railway workers have, in the course of years, conquered the immense difficulties that beset the organising of men whose hours are long and varying, and whose work brings them rather apart than together. Other workers, whose employment is closely akin to theirs, are still involved in those early struggles which seem to the men engaged in them almost hopeless. Comparing their position with that of the railway men, we shall see, once again, how great are the benefits which organisation can bestow, and how powerless are even skilled and licensed workmen unless backed by a strong union.

The omnibus men of London form a group of workers familiar to all London’s citizens. The most tedious of “blocks” has been enlivened for us by their “chaff”; the blackest of fogs and the most scorching of dog-days have failed to destroy their patience and their good temper. With the advent of the motor omnibus, however, a change has become apparent which fills observant Londoners with foreboding. The motor man is, to put it plainly, snappish; he hustles his passengers in and out; he not infrequently turns a blind eye to the breathless pursuer; and he is apt to be caustic in remarks upon the slowness of the aged or the unwieldy traveller. To this impatience the jarring motion and irritating jangle of the car may perhaps contribute; but the main reason of it may, I believe, be found in the conditions under which the drivers and conductors of motor omnibuses mostly work.

It may be of some interest to compare the conditions of three different groups of men, all of whom are busied in the work of carrying London’s inhabitants to and fro; especially since their cases exemplify a transition which is in course of progress around us.

All drivers and conductors are compelled to pay for leave to exercise their calling. It is considered that the security of the passenger requires to be safeguarded, and that no person should be allowed to officiate upon a public conveyance unless he has been licensed to do so. In London the ultimate licensing authority is the Home Secretary, to whom Section 8 of the Stage and Hackney Carriages (Metropolis) Act of 1869 has allowed a power little less than autocratic. These are the terms of it: “A licence to the driver or conductor of a hackney or stage carriage may be granted at such price, on such conditions, be in such form, be subject to revocation or suspension in such events and generally be dealt with in such manner as the said Secretary of State may by order prescribe, subject to this provision, that any licence shall, if not revoked or suspended, be in force for a year, and there shall be paid in respect thereof to the Receiver of the Metropolitan Police Fund such sum not exceeding 5s. as the said Secretary of State may prescribe.” Successive Home Secretaries have seen fit to fix the maximum charge of 5s. for each year’s licence; and between the 1st of April, 1905 and the 31st of March, 1906, the Commissioners of Police received as many sums of 5s. as sufficed to make up a total of £7928, 10s.[30]

Of the manner in which the police authorities exercise their power something will appear later on; but, apart from any question of administration, there is surely some injustice in taxing the men for a licence demanded not at all in their interest, but solely in that of their passengers. That the owners of public conveyances, who derive a profit from running them on the public roads, and who in doing so assist to wear out those roads, should pay for a licence may be not inequitable; but that the paid servants of such owners should be taxed, as a condition of entering that service, can hardly, when judicially considered, be pronounced defensible, and it is not surprising that the Select Committee should advise alteration. “The theory of the Home Office,” says the Report, “seems to be that, in view of the special benefits derived by the cab and omnibus trade from its connection with the police, it is only fair that the trade should be specially taxed for the maintenance of the police.... There seem, however, to be few other classes of the community who are charged in this way for their own police inspection, and in our opinion, the system requires modification.”[31]

The drivers and conductors of horse omnibuses (though there have been changes in their conditions) are still employed upon the system which was once the only one in vogue, and are, at least nominally, paid by the day. The length of day varies somewhat on different routes, but the average is about fifteen hours—or very nearly twice the length of the working day in the best managed industries. Moreover, the omnibus man works as a rule thirteen days in a fortnight. His share of leisure is pretty well described by the reply of an elderly driver who, in the hearing of my informant, was asked by a passenger, at something after 11 P.M., whether this was the last journey. “Yes, sir,” the man answered mildly, “this is our last journey—and the rest of the evening we have to ourselves.”

Out of his nominal daily wage of 7s. or 8s., the driver has to provide rugs, capes and whips. Custom requires of him “tips” to horse-keepers, pullers-up, &c., the total of which is estimated at not far short of a shilling a day. In only a few cases are the men near enough to their homes at dinner time to be met by a small son or daughter carefully conveying “Father’s dinner” in a covered dish or basin—an economy possible to very many cabmen. Their meal, on this account, inevitably costs them rather more than if it could be prepared at home; and the same increase of cost attends their tea. Less than two meals in 15 hours, a man who works in the open air can scarcely do with.

Superhuman punctuality is expected of the omnibus. Should it arrive two or three minutes late—or two or three minutes early—at one of its “points,” its driver may be suspended from work for from two to seven days. The conductor, whose nominal wage is 6s. a day, is liable to be suspended or discharged if his takings fall below the average. When a journey is stopped by fog, fire or the occurrence of a procession, the proportion of pay for that journey is deducted from the wage of driver and conductor alike, even although they may not succeed in bringing the omnibus into the yard until after the usual hour, or even if, as happens occasionally, they may have to stay out all night with it. As one of the fraternity sardonically remarked to me: “It’s a new experience for them, that’s all.”

At the present moment, the drivers and conductors of horse omnibuses are face to face with the prospect of a lowered wage. On one line, there has been a reduction of one journey _per diem_ (the working day having previously been one of 16 hours) and a reduction in the day’s pay of 1s. 6d. for the driver (from 8s. to 6s. 6d.) and of 1s. for the conductor. It is fully expected that men on other lines will, before long, experience the same change.

It will, I am sure, surprise many readers to learn that the drivers and conductors of omnibuses are expected to defray the expenses of accidents. The men employed by one large company subscribe to a fund for the purpose of meeting such expenses. I cannot learn that any direct rule obliges them to belong to this so-called “Drivers’ and Conductors’ Accident Club,” but they are of opinion that any man who declined to belong would not find himself, for long, in the employ of the company. I have been fortunate enough to inspect the rules of this club, and have carefully preserved a copy. It is a document equally remarkable for its oppressiveness and for its grammar. The preamble runs thus: “This Club ... is for the purpose of creating a fund by which the expenses so frequently arising from accidental causes may be met without allowing these expenses to fall unjustly upon the company, or subjecting the individuals who may be the immediate cause of such expenses to perilous and embarrassing circumstances, and, be it further understood, that each Driver and Conductor are responsible for all damages to property or person to the amount of Ten Pounds, and any Driver or Conductor not conforming with the Club Rules will not be allowed any assistance from the Funds thereof for any accident they may meet with.” Rule 1 requires “Each Driver to pay 2s. entrance fee as soon as he is passed eligible to drive an Omnibus belonging to the Club. Each Conductor to pay 1s. entrance fee. Each Service Driver to pay 1s. per week contribution. Each Service Conductor to pay 6d. per week contribution.” Rules 3 and 5 are worth quoting. “Whatever accident may occur by any Driver and Conductor, whether regular or spare men, he shall pay towards such accident not less than one quarter of the amount the accident may cost the Club to settle. If not able to pay the whole of such fourth in one payment it must be paid by instalments of not less than 2s. 6d. per week. Should it be further proved that such accident was brought about by intoxication or any kind of neglect, the Committee shall, at their next meeting, have power to levy any further sum they agree upon, and, whatever sum fixed, may be paid by weekly instalments by such sums as may be agreed upon by the Committee.” “Should any Member of the Club leave or be discharged from the Company’s service within three months of his becoming a Member, such Member shall forfeit all claims upon the Club funds.” Rule 7, after providing for quarterly meetings, proceeds: “The fourth meeting to take place on the most convenient date in December, when after putting away as reserve fund, not less than £40, any surplus remaining to be equally divided among the Members in accordance with what they may be entitled to.” Rule 9 is, perhaps, the most remarkable piece of grammatical construction that ever presented itself under the guise of English. “Any Member having left the Club and is indebted thereto shall not be entitled to share, unless all arrears be paid up. Any Member having left the Club and is entitled to share must apply for same within the first calendar month of the ensuing year, if not his share will be lost and will be placed to the credit of the Club for the ensuing year.”

Thus the nominal wage of every driver in this company’s service is really reduced by 1s. weekly, and that of every conductor by 6d.; while a fund of “not less than £40,” saved up out of these men’s earnings, is held in hand to indemnify the company for possible accidents, whether such accidents are caused by the fault of the men or not. The conductor, indeed, can seldom be even remotely responsible for an accident; yet the conductor, no less than the driver, is made to pay this tax. It would be interesting to know whether the law would uphold a man who should refuse to pay anything at all towards the cost of an accident not caused by neglect or misconduct. He would, of course, lose all chance of further employment in the trade; but he might conceivably put an end, once and for all, to these exactions.

It will hardly appear, from all that has been said, that the life of the omnibus man is extraordinarily enviable; yet his situation is decidedly preferable to that of the man who exchanges the society of a pair of horses for that of a snorting and self-willed motor. Like the horse driver, the motor driver must secure a licence, for which, when he gets it, he must pay 5s. yearly to the Police Commissioners; and if possessing a horse licence he desires to retain it he must pay an additional 5s. per annum. Moreover, when he enters his application, he has also to pay a fee of 5s. to the London County Council for registration. The Commissioners have been known to refuse motor licences to men who have been driving for years, but whose licence shows an endorsement, sometimes of distant date and sometimes for an offence of trivial character. To the lay mind it appears that a man, whose misdemeanours were not too great to make him unfit for driving a horse omnibus, is likely to be a safer driver for a motor than a man from some other calling, quite inexperienced in the art of threading the maze of London traffic. In any case it is clearly an injustice that such a man should not be able to learn, before spending time and money upon special training, that a licence will not be granted to him. The test of competence applied is curious but probably effective. A certain inspector, whose name I refrain from giving, collects a number of candidates and places himself with one of them on the driving stand of a motor omnibus, the remainder of the candidates occupying seats as passengers. The driver, under orders from the inspector, steers the car hither and thither until such time as his instructor dismisses him to inaction, and selects another. Not until the party has returned home, does any man learn his fate. Then the inspector remarks to each as the case may be: “You have passed,” or “You must come up again.” The fiat of this gentleman being unchecked, it is well that it appears to be dictated by justice. Beloved, indeed, of his licencees he is not; but I found myself hardly able to sympathise with complaints of his unsmiling disposition. How should a man smile, whose calling in life it is to imperil his existence at the hands of an endless succession of unpractised motor drivers? A certain proportion of these candidates are men who have never driven in the London streets—some of them never on any road whatever. There is a legend of one, said to have been originally a shop assistant, who entered upon his career unaware that he was expected to drive to the left rather than to the right. I have myself travelled in a motor omnibus the driver of which took the wrong side of three refuges between Maida Vale and Tottenham Court Road. Whether ignorance guided his course or a desire to achieve a full complement of journeys _per diem_ I cannot, of course, tell.

Having secured his licence and an engagement, the motor driver is put upon a certain route, to perform a shift, not of so many hours, but of so many journeys. The “journey system,” which is responsible for nearly all the ill temper and not a few of the accidents that attend the course of the motor omnibus, is as follows. A certain number of journeys each day is allotted to each car. Driver and conductor are paid by the journey, and the required number of journeys is such that only under the most favourable possible conditions can it be completed. At least one car in every three will fail in the task. Let us consider, for instance, the case of certain cars which, at one period, were timed to do four journeys, but have recently been required to make six in the day. Two shifts are worked, each set of men being supposed to make three journeys. Since the very barest measure of time is allowed, the men are constantly on the strain; they are tempted to take risks, and are unwilling to pause long enough for the picking up and setting down of passengers. At the close of the period allowed for the first shift, the third journey will in all probability not be finished, but it may have been begun, and will be concluded before the car is brought in. It thus becomes more impossible than ever for the second set of journeys to be compressed into the shortened hours left for the second shift, the rather that the car will very probably have suffered from the strain put upon it in the endeavour to get out of it the utmost amount of work. Two journeys may be achieved, in which case the driver may receive from 4s. to 5s., and the conductor from 3s. to 4s.; or only one may be completed, in which case the payment of each will be but half as much. Is it wonderful that the tempers of men working under such conditions display some uncertainty, nor that accidents are frequent especially in the latter half of the day? The wonder is that so many cautious City gentlemen, who obviously regard their own lives as precious, should continue to entrust their persons to vehicles so precarious.

On some lines, the men work early and late shifts in alternate weeks; on others, they change twice a week. A driver, working on these terms, explained to me how, on a certain evening in the week, he came off duty about midnight, after which time he had to get home, to get himself clean—no rapid process, as many an amateur motorist well knows—and to get his supper. Soon after six, next morning, he was due at the garage to take on his early shift, and was obliged, therefore, to leave home by about half past five. His next leisure for a meal not arriving until seven hours later, it behoves him to get his breakfast before he sets out. How many hours’ rest fall to his share on such occasions, and how fit he is, in the morning, to assume the responsibility of a motor omnibus and its complement of passengers, readers may judge for themselves.

Among other evils arising from this system we may note the way in which every man’s hand is turned against his comrade. It becomes the interest of the first shift to snatch time enough for their own journeys, to the loss of the second shift; while the second shift would be more than human if they did not resent the time thus lost. The employing company alone profits by setting up an impossible, or almost impossible, task as the measure of the day’s payment. By pretending that three journeys instead of two form the task of one shift of workers, the payment for each journey can be fixed at one-third instead of at one-half of what may be reckoned as the wage of a man’s working day.

From the moment when the car breaks down—and how frequently it does so our own eyes assure us—the payment of its driver and conductor cease. They must remain by the disabled vehicle until a trolley comes to drag it away; their period of waiting may stretch into several hours—it may even extend through the night, but for that part of their time in which they were not actually conveying passengers they will not receive a penny. Some companies have indeed a rule upon their code that payment will be made if the road engineer employed by the firm certifies that the driver is not responsible for the accident. One can understand that certificates, the granting of which means money out of pocket to the company, are not likely to be very lavishly issued by an engineer in the company’s employ; and there are men who declare that this rule is a dead letter and that broken journeys are never paid for. Industrially speaking, the history of the motor omnibus industry in London has been unfortunate. One, at least, of the firms that appeared early in the field followed the tactics rendered familiar by the example of American trusts. It began, as the trust does, by underselling competitors, and offered the passenger a longer journey for a penny. A hope was probably entertained that these low fares would deter the older companies from setting up motor conveyances. The older companies were not deterred; but they found themselves compelled to compete on their rival’s terms; so that, for a time, the curious alternative was offered to the Londoner, of travelling from the Marble Arch to Victoria, either in a slow horse omnibus, for 2d., or in a quick motor omnibus for 1d. To travel for 1d. instead of for 2d. is the desire of every passenger; but the gratification may be bought too dear, and danger is a high price to pay. How much danger the passenger incurs, who travels in the motor omnibuses of certain companies may be guessed by persons who have heard—as I have—the drivers of these vehicles talking among themselves of the accidents and of the hairbreadth escapes that have formed part of their own experience. The running into the river of the Barnes omnibus was foretold, less than a week before its occurrence, as a thing that must, sooner or later, come to pass. The trained men who face them are fully aware what risks they are running; and to some of them, no doubt, the very risk is an attraction. No motor man need complain that modern life lacks incident and adventure. The passenger, on the other hand, who, when he sits behind a horse, can see for himself its weakness or its restiveness, cannot possibly judge the strength or the weakness of machinery that is not even open to his view. Some omnibuses, no doubt, are in excellent condition; but it is equally certain that there are others, the essential parts of which are perilously near to being worn out. Accumulated experience has convinced even so technically unskilled an observer as myself that there is at least one company whose vehicles are not, in themselves, dangerous, and at least one other with whose habitual passengers a prudent life insurance company should have nothing to do. In the hands of an unskilled driver, or of a driver rendered temporarily unskilled by fatigue, by too long a fast, or by too little sleep, every motor omnibus is dangerous; and every hardship of the men thus becomes a source of public danger.

The frequency of breakdowns has undoubtedly been increased by the shortsighted policy of some owners who, for economy’s sake, have employed in the repairing shop, not qualified engineers, but merely “fitters,” or even those humbler persons known as “fitters’ mates.” The lesson of experience, however, seems to be teaching wisdom in this respect; and the motor companies are learning, as other employers have learned before them, that to entrust costly property to unskilled hands comes expensive, however low the wages paid. Meanwhile, we are informed by the Report of the Select Committee upon the Cabs and Omnibuses (Metropolitan) Bill, that during the period covered by that Report, 25% of the cars were on an average always out of use. This means, of course, that a certain ratio of the men employed upon such cars were always out of a job. Most of these would be set to various kinds of work in the garage, their payment while so employed being but 3s. 6d. a day, a rate representing, for ten hours, less than fourpence an hour. These are truths which should be recollected when persons familiar only with the nominal figure of a wage that can hardly ever be earned, talk of the good pay of motor drivers. Moreover, instances are quoted in which men have not received even this pittance for the time spent in the garage, but have been paid only for one day instead of for two or three. By one company a notice has been posted up that, from the day upon which these words are written, no work done in the garage will be paid for, unless a certificate has been obtained from the superintendent of the garage.

It may be remarked that this principle of proportional deduction which is so dear to the hearts of the companies is not applied in the matter of the uniform, for which although it never becomes the wearer’s property a charge of threepence a day is demanded, even though the day may have been broken and the uniform worn only during an hour or two. A tale is told of a conductor to whom, the car having come to grief early in the shift, fourpence was handed as the fraction of wage to which he was entitled, out of which sum he was requested to hand back threepence in payment for his uniform. He had not presence of mind enough to reduce this charge in proportion to the reduction of his own wages, and to proffer a farthing as the nearest equivalent to one-fifteenth of threepence, but weakly yielded to the demand and went away with a penny. At threepence a day and 339 days in a year (_i.e._, deducting 26 Sundays) each man would pay £4, 4s. 3d. for his coat, cap, &c. It would be interesting to know what price is paid for the articles by the company.

Employment in the omnibus trade, whether behind a horse or behind a motor, is thus full of discomforts and of weariness. Yet, such as it is, the men would be thankful for any certainty of retaining it. They are liable to discharge upon any complaint from an inspector (or possibly from an outside person) and no opportunity is allowed of exculpating themselves. Furthermore they are firmly convinced that a number of spies—“spots” is their own slang term—travel to and fro in the character of ordinary passengers and constantly present complaints, ill or well founded as the case may be, to the companies. “There’s plenty of people,” said one man, “who never pay their omnibus fares. They send in their tickets to the company and get back their money.” “Of course,” said another, “they must make plenty of complaints or the companies wouldn’t think it worth while to keep them on.” Whether this belief is right or wrong, its existence is, at least, highly significant of the light in which the men regard their employers, and is, I venture to say, a symptom of very unsatisfactory relations.

The men are also persuaded that there exists among the Federation of masters a tacit compact in accordance with which a man who has quitted the service of any one of them will not, for a certain length of time, be admitted into that of any other. In their own language “the bar is up” against such a man. How far this opinion is well founded it is difficult to judge; but it is unquestionably the fact that instance after instance can be adduced of drivers, holding unendorsed licences, who, on leaving the employment of one company, have been refused week after week, by the others, and have been obliged at last to find some other calling. One finds himself happier and wealthier as a street sweeper. In at least one such case the responsible post eventually secured is a guarantee of good character and steadiness.

It is always instructive to compare the conditions offered by the best and the worst employers, respectively, in the same trade. In the matter of traffic, the best employer in London is the London County Council. To begin with, the men who work upon its trams pay nothing for their uniforms. Their working day is of ten hours. Time lost by such hindrances as fog, fire and processions is paid extra (at the rate known to the trade as “time and a half”). Work on a seventh day in the week when it occurs is paid at time-and-a-quarter rates. Moreover any horse driver in the Council’s service who desires to qualify as an electric driver can be trained, free of charge, in the municipal technical school; whereas the charge for training made by one of the private companies is £5. Not only does the London County Council issue to its inspectors special instructions to avoid arbitrary and domineering treatment of subordinates; it also affords to every man accused by an inspector the opportunity of meeting his accuser face to face, and of telling his own story. In short, the London County Council treats those deserving citizens who do its work, with justice and with respect; and they, in their turn, treat the public with a degree of kindly courtesy most refreshing after the asperities of the motor omnibus man. Nor can it be maintained by any truthful person that the comparatively comfortable conditions of the municipal tram men have cost the ratepayer too dear; since the profits of the Southern tramway lines alone in the year 1905 were assessed by the Exchequer for income tax purposes at £203,831; while, in addition to the large profits thus indicated, the reduction of fares on these lines must, by this time, have saved hundreds of pounds to the travelling public.

With the exception, then, of that fortunate minority employed by the municipality, the workers on the public conveyances of London present no very cheering spectacle. In the beginning of this 20th century, and in the capital of a country that prides itself upon the freedom of its citizens and upon the representative character of its government, we find adult skilled male workers, performing valuable public services and occupying positions of great responsibility, apparently as powerless as any sweated home worker in her garret to secure for themselves either a reasonably short working day, or equitable treatment, or payment for the whole of the hours spent in the employer’s service. Yet one group of them is guaranteed by the licence of a public department as efficient; the services which they render are eagerly demanded by the public; their industry is one in which foreign competition is impossible; and the companies employing them are in many instances paying high dividends. These, surely, are facts very much worth the consideration of all those fellow citizens for whom, in the last resort, the railway man and the omnibus man are working.