Sir Leopold Kershaw is as great a man as ever; but he talks less about the equality and brotherhood of man.
The Story of "Bradshaw."
By Newton Deane.
"What books do you consult most?" a political adherent once asked John Bright in the midst of an arduous campaign. "The Bible and 'Bradshaw,'" was the reply of the great Quaker. To this another statesman added that both stood in equal need of commentators. "Bradshaw"—or, to give it its correct title, "Bradshaw's General Railway and Steam Navigation Guide"—is essentially a British institution, like the Times, football, Punch, and cricket. In common with all great institutions, it is a target for libel and detraction on the part of people who are a little difficult to please. Its very accuracy has been questioned. It has been said—by a succession of incorrigible humorists, including Charles Dickens—to have driven countless British lieges to lunacy. Our retreats for the insane are said to be invariably provided with a "Bradshaw ward," filled with the unhappy victims of the famous guide. But, seriously, "Bradshaw"—like the Bench of Bishops—can afford to be indulgent in the knowledge that it is indispensable. What should we do without "Bradshaw"? What if the portly brochure in the buff covers, that was born in the heart of England some sixty-five years ago, had never come into existence? True, Londoners have their "A B C," but London is only a tenth of the kingdom, and, besides, "Bradshaw" has all Europe for its province. Anyway, the origin and early progress of "Bradshaw" are interesting enough to be better known to the world.
GEORGE BRADSHAW.
From a Water Colour Drawing.