" MOTOR-CAR DAY " 57 



cabs and other envied positions occupied by amateur 

 photographers, who paid dearly to take pictures of 

 the fog, which they could have done elsewhere for 

 nothing. 



Time went on, the crowd grew bigger, the mud 

 was churned into slush, and everybody was treading 

 upon everybody else. 



" Ain't this bloomin' fun, sir ? " asked the driver 

 of a growler, his sides shaking with laughter, ' Even 

 my ole 'oss 'as bin larfm'." 



" Very intelligent horse," we said, thinking of 

 Mr. Pickwick, and determining to ask some searching 

 questions as to his antecedents. 



" Interleck's a great p'int, sir. Which 'ud you 

 sooner be in : a runaway mortar-caw or a keb ? ' 



" Neither." 



" No, I ain't jokin', strite. I've just bin argying 

 wif a bloke as said he'd sooner be in a caw. I said I 

 pitied 'is choice, and wouldn't give 'im much for his 

 charnce. 'Cos why ? 'Cos mortar-caws ain't got no 

 interleck. They cawn't tell the dif'rence 'tween 

 nothink an' a brick wall. Now a 'os can. If 'e don't 

 turn orf 'e tries ter jump th' wall, but yer mortar 

 simply goes fer it, and then where are yer ? In 'eaven, 

 if ver lucky, or in " 



But the rest of his sentence was lost in the roar 

 that ascended from the crowd as the cars commenced 

 their journey to Brighton. 



They went beautifully for a few yards, chased the 

 mounted police right into the crowd, and then stopped. 



" It's th' standin' still as does it — not the standi n' 

 still, I mean the not going forrard, 'cos they don't 

 stand still," said the cabbv, excitedly. 



" Don't they hum ? " he cried. 



" Thev certainly do make a little noise." 



" But I mean, don't they whiff ? " 



" Whiff ? " 



He held his nose. 



" I say, guv'nor," shouted cabby to a fur-coated 

 foreigner, " wot is it smells so ? " 



