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 mishap was about as bad as getting into a
wrong train. I merely mention the circumstance to show that it was no
joke driving a night Mail in those days. November was the month we
dreaded most, the fogs were generally so bad. A singular event happened
with the Bath Mail that ran between Bath and Devonport. Its time for
arriving at Devonport was eleven o'clock at night. One eventful evening,
they had set down all their outside passengers except a Mrs. Cox, who
kept a fish-stall in Devonport Market. She was an immense woman,
weighing about twenty stone. At Yealmpton, where the coachman and guard
usually had their last drain before arriving at their destination, being
a cold night, they kindly sent Mrs. Cox a drop of something warm. The
servant-girl who brought out the glass, not being able to reach the
lady, the ostler very imprudently left the horses' heads to do the
polite. The animals hearing some one getting on the coach, doubtless
concluded that it was the coachman; at the same time finding themselves
free, and being, probably, anxious to get home, started off at their
usual pace, and performed the seven miles in safety, passing over the
Laira Bridge and through the toll-bar, keeping clear of everything on
the road. Mrs. Cox meanwhile sat on the coach, with her arms extended in
the attitude of a spread-eagle, and vainly trying to attract the
attention of those she met or passed on the road. She very prudently,
however, abstained from screaming, as she thought she might otherwise
have alarmed the horses. They, indeed, only trotted at their ordinary
speed, and came to a halt of their own accord at the door of the "King's
Arms" Hotel, Plymouth, where they were in the habit of stopping to
discharge some of the freight of the coach. The boots and ostler came
running out to attend to their accustomed duties, but, to their
astonishment, beheld no one but the affrighted Mrs. Cox on the coach
and two passengers inside, who were happily, wholly unconscious of the
danger to which they had been exposed! The coachman and guard soon
arrived in a post-chaise. Poor Mrs. Cox dr