Now it is not considered quite the thing for ladies to go about in hansom cabs, without a gentleman to accompany them, especially in the evening; but being independent Americans, and impatient to relieve our weary hostess of our presence, we said nothing, but bundled in, gave the address,—24 Colville Gardens, Bayswater,—and away we went.
A dense fog had come on, and nothing was visible but a short bit of muddy street, and lamps looming dimly through the mist. Our driver was as husky as if it had got into his throat, and the big, white horse looked absolutely ghostly as he went off at the breakneck pace which seems as natural to the London cab-horse as mud is to London streets.
"Isn't it fun to go rattling round in this all-out-of-doors style, through a real London fog?" said my sister, who was now enjoying her first visit to this surprising city.
"That remains to be seen. For my part, I'd give a good deal to be shut up, dry and decent, in a four-wheeler, this is so very rowdy," I returned, feeling much secret anxiety as to the propriety of our proceeding.
"You are sure you gave the man the right direction?" I asked, after we had driven through what
