Civil service -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction
Another witness told how unsafe was the transit of heavy goods by barge
from one side of the river to another. He had had a cargo of marine
stores which would go to sea before their time. The strong ebb of the
tide, joined to the river current, had positively carried the barge
away, and its course had not been stopped till it had drifted on shore
at Purfleet. He acknowledged that something had transpired of the
bargemen being drunk, but he had no knowledge himself that such had been
the case. No other cargoes of his own had been carried away, but he
had heard that such was often the case. He thought that the bridge
was imperatively demanded. Would the tolls pay? He felt sure that
they would. Why, then, should not the bridge be built as a commercial
speculation, without Government aid? He thought that in such cases a
fostering Government was bound to come forward and show the way. He had
a few shares in the bridge himself. He had paid up £1 a share. They were
now worth 2s. 6d. each. They had been worth nothing before the committee
had been ordered to sit. He declined to give any opinion as to what the
shares would be worth if the money were granted.
Ladies at Limehouse proved that if there were a bridge they could save
30s. a year each, by buying their tea and sugar at Rotherhithe; and so
singular are the usages of trade, that the ladies of Rotherhithe would
benefit their husbands equally, and return the compliment, by consuming
the bread of Limehouse. The shores of Kent were pining for the beef of
the opposite bank, and only too anxious to give in return the surplus
stock of their own poultry.
'Let but a bridge be opened,' as was asserted by one animated vendor of
rope, 'and Poplar would soon rival Pimlico. Perhaps that might not be
desirable in the eyes of men who lived in the purlieus of the Court,
and who were desirous to build no new bridge, except that over
the ornamental water in St. James's Park.' Upon uttering which the
rope-vendor looked at Mr. Vigil as though he expected him to sink at
once under the table.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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