GOING BY COACH: BOOKING OFFICES 329 



The cold sleet is drizzling down with that gentle 

 regularity which betokens a duration of four-and- 

 twenty hours at least ; the damp hangs upon the 

 housetops and lamp-posts, and clings to you like 

 an invisible cloak. The Avater is ' coming in ' in 

 every area, the pipes have Ijurst, the water-butts 

 are running over ; the kennels seem to be doing 

 matches against time, pump-handles descend of 

 their own accord, horses in market-carts fall doAvn, 

 and there's no one to help them up again ; police- 

 men look as if they had been carefully sprinkled 

 Avitli powdered glass ; here and there a milk- 

 woman trudges slowly along, with a bit of list 

 round each foot to keep her from slipping ; boys 

 Avho 'don't sleep in the house,' and are not alloAved 

 much sleep out of it, can't wake their masters by 

 thundering at the shop-door, and cry with the cold 

 — the compound of ice, snow, and Avater on the 

 pavement is a couple of inches thick — nobody 

 ventures to Avalk fast to keep himself warm, and 

 nobody could succeed in keeping himself warm if 

 he did. 



" It strikes a quarter past five as you trudge 

 doAvn Waterloo Place on your way to the " Golden 

 Cross," and you discover, for the first time, that 

 you were called about an hour too early. You 

 have not time to go back, there is no place open 

 to go into, and you have, therefore, no resource 

 but to go forward, which you do, feeling remark- 

 ably satisfied with yourself and everything about 

 you. You arrive at the ofiice, and look wistfully 

 up the yard for the Birmingham Highflier, which, 



