There was another woman, not an owner of cabs, who was feared by all the cabmen of London, and consequently had more uncomplimentary names bestowed upon her than any other woman ever had. Mrs. Prodgers, the lady in question, obtained considerable fame through her constant squabbles with cabmen. Possessing an extensive and unique knowledge of cab law and London mileage, she made a point of travelling the full distance to which her shilling entitled her, with the result that cabmen who did not know her usually demanded more than the legal fare. Her reply was to take his number, and apply for a summons against him. Frequently she summoned men who took what she offered without demur, for she had practically appointed herself an inspector of cabs and cabmen, and was as successful in discovering breaches of the hackney-carriage regulations as the most energetic paid official could have been. After a time she became so dreaded that the warning cry of “Mother Prodgers” would send every cab within hail dashing away up side streets to escape her. Even now there are scores of cabmen who cannot hear her name mentioned without fuming with indignation. The conditions of a cabman’s employment were, and still are, calculated to encourage extortion. The cabby paid the owner a certain amount for the loan of his cab, and his profits did not begin until he had earned the hire money. Therefore, when a cabman, after waiting for hours on the rank, obtained a “fare,” the temptation to overcharge was very great. It was his first job that day, and it might be his last. He was grateful for an extra shilling or sixpence, but if it were not offered to him he endeavoured to obtain it by indulging in scathing remarks or vulgar abuse. The fact that a cabman has a wife and children to support may be considered extenuating circumstances, but it is poor consolation for the unfortunate victims of his extortion. With the idea of protecting the public against overcharge, an endeavour was made, in 1858, to get attached to cabs a patent machine named “The Kilometric Register,” which would indicate the number of miles travelled and the fare to be paid. But the cabmen objected strongly to such an innovation, and it was not made. Lord John Russell was in the habit of riding home every night from the House of Commons in a cab. The distance was short, and the cabmen all knew that he paid a shilling for his ride. But one night a cabman, well known as “Palace Yard Jack,” was surprised to find that Lord John had placed a sovereign in his hand instead of a shilling. He saw that the statesman had made a mistake, but having had a spell of bad luck, and being in great need of a new pair of boots, he did not call his lordship’s attention to the coin. But on the following night, as “Palace Yard Jack” was sitting on his cab, Lord John Russell walked up to him, and said:-- “You drove me home last night, I think.” “Yes, my lord.” “What did I give you?” “A sovereign, my lord.”