There are rules which control London omnibuses, and these it is the duty of the police to strictly enforce. A ’bus is licensed and allowed to carry only so many passengers, and this license or limit must be posted on a conspicuous part of the vehicle. The majority are “licensed to carry twenty-six passengers; twelve inside and fourteen outside.”
In 1890 the London police force numbered thirteen thousand eight hundred and fifty-five men, not counting the nine hundred and two officers who form a special organization in what is termed “the city.” A considerable part of the time and attention of the police is devoted to governing street traffic. Policemen will watch and follow a ’bus for several blocks if they think it contains more passengers than the law allows. When they are assured that this is the case they go to a magistrate and lay a complaint, and then woe betide the poor driver or conductor who disregarded the law.
The ’buses make special stops at certain points of their route and these seem very long and prove tedious to one who is in a hurry; but if your time is valuable you would never take a ’bus. They are not allowed to stop when near or nearing these special stopping-places, not even if a passenger expresses a desire to alight. I remember once, simply for information, asking the driver to stop in the middle of Trafalgar square, just as we were passing Nelson’s monument, on the way to the Strand, cityward. “Well,” said the polite but uneducated Jehu, “you carn’t expect me to get a four-shilling summons for a penny fare, can you?” meaning that if he pulled up where I indicated he would be summoned the next day on the complaint of a vigilant “bobby” and be obliged to pay four shillings for accommodating me.
In American street cars or omnibuses—excepting, as I remember in San José, California, a passenger who rides only a few blocks helps to pay the fare of the man who rides the full length of the road, for the charge to both is the same. It is not so (mis) managed in England. The charge there is by distance, about one penny (two cents) a mile and you pay according to the distance you ride. There are two or three lines of omnibuses whose only fare is a half-penny (one cent). One line runs between Westminster bridge and Trafalgar square. They pick up no passengers between the two points. They each carry only twelve passengers; there are no outside seats.
There is a great deal of pilfering going on among omnibus conductors, and drivers also, for they divide the spoils; and the company winks at it, knowing that the pay of these men is too small. The company is satisfied if it receives a fair average return, but in this way it puts a premium on dishonesty. There is no check against the conductors—no mechanical contrivance to record fares. They are supposed to enter every fare and the exact amount they receive from each passenger on a paper slip placed in a frame, the frame being fastened to the inside of the omnibus door, but it is only a supposition. Passengers are requested to see that the amount paid is properly entered, but the request is wholly unheeded. It is, to say the least, a very careless way of keeping accounts, and invites dishonesty. On some lines they use tickets showing the amount each passenger pays, but a conductor sometimes forgets to hand you a ticket. An Inspector will occasionally mount a ’bus to see that all the passengers are supplied with tickets, and then the conductor with a treacherous memory has reason to be sorry. Keep out of a “pirate ’bus.” The rate in these ’buses is not uniform, and overcharges are not uncommon.
ON THE TOP OF A ’BUS.
The driver is generally a jolly, red-faced fellow and very smartly dressed, especially on Sunday. He then always wears a “top hat:” in winter it is of black silk, in summer a pearl gray felt with a wide mourning band to set it off. His coat is often a double-breasted drab cassimere, and in the top buttonhole of the left lapel is a large and loud nose-gay. A showy scarf and a pair of heavy, tan-colored driving gloves complete his costume. He makes quite a picture as he sits on the box, with a leather strap across his waist which holds him securely in his seat, and a black leather apron to protect the lower part of his body from wind and rain. He carries a showy whip with a very long and loose thong, with the end of which he can pick off a fly from the ear of his leader.
The ’bus driver is permitted to smoke while on duty. He comforts himself with a briarwood pipe unless a generous passenger treats him to a cigar, for he is not above accepting a small present.