“A sign of spring, Erchie,” I said; “thank heaven! the primrose is in the wood, and the buds bursting on the hedge in the country, though you and I are not there to see it.”
“I daursay,” said he, “I’ll hae to mak’ a perusal doon the length o’ Yoker on the skoosh car when the floods is ower. I’m that used to them noo, as shair’s death I canna get my naitural sleep on dry nichts unless Jinnet gangs oot to the back and throws chuckies at the window, lettin’ on it’s rain and hailstanes. When I hear the gravel on the window I cod mysel’ it’s the genuine auld Caledonian climate, say my wee ‘Noo I lay me,’ and gang to sleep as balmy as a nicht polisman.
“There’s a great cry the noo aboot folks comin’ frae the country and croodin’ into the toons and livin’ in slums and degenerating the bone and muscle o’ Britain wi’ eatin’ kippered herrin’ and ice-cream. Thoosands o’ them’s gaun aboot Gleska daein’ their bit turns the best way they can, and no’ kennin’, puir craturs! there’s a Commission sittin’ on them as hard’s it can.
“‘Whit’s wanted,’ says the Inspectors o’ Poor, ‘is to hustle them aboot frae place to place till the soles o’ their feet gets red-hot wi’ the speed they’re gaun at; then gie them a bar o’ carbolic soap and a keg o’ Keatin’s poother, and put them on the first train for Edinburgh.
“‘Tear doon the rookeries,’ says anither man, ‘and pit up rooms and kitchens wi’ wally jawboxes and tiled closes at a rent o’ eighteenpence a-week when ye get it.’
“‘That’s a’ very fine,’ says the economists, ‘but if ye let guid wally jawbox hooses at ten shillin’s a-year less than the auld-established and justly-popular slum hoose, will’t no’ tempt mair puir folk frae the country into Gleska and conjest the Gorbals worse than ever?’ The puir economists thinks the folks oot aboot Skye and Kamerhash-injoo’s waitin’ for telegrams tellin’ them the single apairtment hoose in Lyon Street, Garscube Road,’s doon ten shillin’s a-year, afore they pack their carpet-bags and start on the Clansman for the Broomielaw. But they’re no’. They, divna ken onything aboot the rent o’ hooses in Gleska, and they’re no’ carin’, for maybe they’ll no’ pay’t ony-wye. They jist come awa’ to Gleska when the wife tells them, and Hughie’s auld enough for a polisman.
“Slums! wha wants to abolish slums? It’s no’-the like o’ me nor Duffy. If there werena folk leevin’ in slums I couldna buy chape shirts, and the celebrated Stand Fast Craigroyston serge breeks at 2s. 11d. the pair, bespoke, guaranteed, shrunk, and wan hip-pocket.
“When they’re proposin’ the toast o’ the ‘Army, Navy, and Reserve Forces,’ they ought to add the Force that live in Slums. They’re the men and women that’s aye ready to sweat for their country—when their money’s done. A man that wants the chapest kind o’ chape labour kens he’ll aye can get it in the slums; if it wasna for that, my Stand Fast Craigroyston breeks wad maybe cost 7s. 6d., and some of the elders in the kirk I’m beadle for wad hae to smoke tuppenny cigars instead o’ sixpenny yins.
“The slums’ll no’ touch ye if ye don’t gang near them.
“Whit a lot o’ folk want to dae’s to run the skoosh cars away oot into the country whaur the clegs and the midges and the nae gas is, and coup them oot at Deid Slow on the Clyde, and leave them there wander’t. Hoo wad they like it themsel’s? The idea is that Duffy, when he’s done wi’ his last rake o’ coals,’ll mak’ the breenge for Deid Slow, and tak’ his tea and wash his face wi’ watter that hard it stots aff his face like a kahootchy ba’, and spend a joyous and invigoratin’ evenin’ sheuchin’ leeks and prunin’ cauliflooer-bushes in the front plot o’ his cottage home.