2io DRIVING. 



and the horses went into the ditch ; the unfortunate wheelers 

 were drowned or smothered in the mud. There were two 

 inside passengers, who were extricated with some difficulty ; 

 but fortunately no one was injured. I managed to take the 

 passengers, with the guard and mail-bags, on to London, leav- 

 ing the coachman to wait for daylight before he could make 

 an attempt to get the mail up the embankment. They endea- 

 voured to accomplish this with cart horses and chains. They 

 had nearly reached the top of the bank w r hen something gave 

 way, and the poor old mail went back into the ditch again. I 

 shall never forget the scene ; there were about a dozen men 

 from the powder-mills trying to render assistance, and, with 

 their black faces, each bearing a torch in his hand, they prer 

 sented a curious spectacle. This happened about thirty years 

 ago. Posts and rails were erected at the spot after the accident. 

 I passed the place last summer ; they are still there, as well as 

 the old pollard-willow stump. 



I recollect another singular circumstance occasioned by a 

 fog. There were eight mails that passed through Hounslow. 

 The Bristol, Bath, Gloucester and Stroud took the right-hand 

 road from Hounslow : the Exeter, Yeovil, Poole, and Quick- 

 silver, Devonport (which was the one I was driving) went the 

 straight road towards Stain es. We always saluted each other, 

 when passing, with ' Good night, Bill,' ' Dick,' or ' Harry,' as 

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

 faster, and gave my wonted salute. A coachman named 

 Downs was driving the Stroud mail ; he instantly recognised 

 my voice, and said, ' Charlie, what are you doing on my road ?' 

 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, which was a feat attended with much difficulty in such a 

 fog. Had it not been for our usual salute, he would not have 

 discovered his mistake before arriving at Staines. This mis- 

 hap was about as bad as getting into a wrong train. I merely 

 mention the circumstance to show that it was no joke driving 



