FOGS 19 



rarely) took a convivial glass too much ; or, more 

 often, raced opposition coaches to a final smash ; and 

 then there were the " pea-soupers " of fogs, which led 

 the most experienced astray. 



The following story belongs to the first quarter of 

 this century, and is told by one of the old drivers : 

 " I recollect," he says, " a singular circumstance occa- 

 sioned by a fog. There were eight mails that passed 

 through Hounslow. The Bristol, Bath, Gloucester, 

 and Stroud took the right-hand road ; the Exeter, 

 Yeovil, Poole, and 'Quicksilver' Devonport (which 

 was the one I was driving) went the straight road 

 towards Staines. We always saluted each otlier when 

 passing with ' Good night. Bill,' ' Dick,' or ' Harry,' 

 as the case might be. I was once passing a mail, 

 mine being tlie fastest, and gave my wonted salute. 

 A coachman named Downs was driving the Stroud 

 mail. He instantly recognized my voice, so said, 

 ' Charley, what are you doing on my road 1 ' It was 

 he, however, who had made the mistake ; he had 

 taken the Staines instead of the Slough road out of 

 Hounslow. We both pulled up immediately ; he had 

 to turn round and go back — a feat attended with 

 some difficulty in such a fog. Had it not been for 

 our usual salute, he would not have discovered his 

 mistake before arriving at Staines." 



