Rupert the title-rôle might fitlier fill.
The Fabian Manifesto frightens no man;
But just conceive the great, but cautious, Roman
Heading a restive, Radical "Ugly Rush"!
Though Patience suffers in the Modern Crush,
Perchance the Socialistic perorator
Might learn a lesson from the great Cunctator!
THE CABMAN'S GUIDE TO POLITENESS.—No. II.
- Question. I think when you are out of temper, and have been asked by a Fare, who appears to know more (or less) about distances than you do, to stop, you pretend not to hear him?
- Answer. Yes; and I continue not to hear him until a policeman pulls me up.
- Q. Quite so; and then you have a way of giving a jerk while your Fare is getting in which either covers a lady's dress with mud, or all but breaks the leg of a gentleman?
- A. Well, I have known such things to happen.
- Q. And when you reach your destination, you carefully forget the number of the street or square, and are equally hard of hearing if your Fare attempts to direct you?
- A. You have hit it, especially if it's raining.
- Q. Of course. And when you get your money, you sneer and drive away, as if you were disgusted?
- A. Yes. And as I go off I make as much splash as I can, in the hope of my late fare getting a dose of the mud.
- Q. Exactly. Now, don't you think it would be better to come up cheerfully, drive carefully, and when you receive your money, observe, "Well, Sir (or Madam), I know I have no right to more, but times are hard, and if you would spare an extra sixpence, I should consider it a real kindness?" Would not that mode be better than the other? Would it not be more profitable?
- A. It might, but I can't say, as I have never tried it.
- Q. Again, what is your method of obtaining what you consider to be your rights from a mother with two boxes and four small children?
- A. Why I generally swear at the kids and sit on the boxes until I am paid what I ask, or get sent to the right-abouts by a policeman.
- Q. No doubt; yet such a course seems both barbarous and inconvenient. Could you not improve upon it?
- A. Not I. It is the right thing to do, and that is why I do it.
- Q. And yet would it not be as easy for you to help the boxes down yourself, and then to make friends with the mother through her children? Could you not observe, "Bless their hearts, they are fine lads, or young ladies (as the case might be), and you should be proud of them, mum?"
- A. Yes, I might say that, but I don't think the mother would come down with the cash any quicker on account of it.
- Q. But supposing, when you were offered less than you thought due to you, could you not observe, "I have children of my own, mum, and if you could spare a couple of shillings (or half-a-crown, or what you thought right) more, it would be a real kindness, and give my children something more than bread and water for dinner?" Could you not say that?
- A. I might, but I won't.
- Q. But surely it would be pleasanter for you to be amiable and courteous instead of a bully and a brute? And would it not be easier, too?
- A. Try for yourself. Just you drive a cab for a dozen hours in all weathers, and then you will learn what chances you have of feeling light-hearted and polite!