"Time wore on. The mail at length drew up, making that peculiar squeaking noise through the deep snow which indicates the heaviest draught for the horses, which were sobbing and sweating, the wet pouring in streams from their sides; the delay having been caused by the coach having got into a drift, from which it had been with difficulty extricated by a plough-team. "The change being effected, we took our places inside, and, travelling under great difficulty, we jogged on; the guard occasionally getting down to feel for the road with a stick. "I sympathised with my fellow-traveller, and encouraged him by expressing my conviction that we should arrive at Durham at four A.M., instead of the usual hour, eleven P.M.; but it proved difficult to reconcile him even to this delay. "Thus we passed hour after hour; the wheels of the mail groaning and squeaking through the drifted snow, and the horses frequently brought to a walk. By dint of perseverance, however, and the pluck of the coachman, we did arrive at Durham at half-past four A.M., five hours late. When we alighted at the Crown I was surprised to find that my fellow-traveller appeared to excite in the night-porter a sneer of disgust. Turning his whole attention to _my_ luggage, he allowed the man to snatch up his own valise and depart. "'Nice company you've got into,' growled boots. "'Doesn't he stop here?' I asked. "'Thank you, we don't accommodate gentlemen of _his_ profession. They make room for him when they want him at the county gaol.' "'Who and what is he?' "'Why, don't you know him? That's the hangman; and he brings that there trunk with him to take away his perquisites, which is the wearing apparel of the poor wretch he's a-going to swing off at eight o'clock this morning; and the mail being so late, he has only just saved his bacon this journey.'" * * * * * Having finished his tale, the gray man looked hard at me, and again uttered his favourite "Y-e-s," which this time I was half inclined to interpret into a warning to his friend that, whilst encouraging outsiders in the bagman's room, they might be entertaining an executioner unawares. Travelling by public conveyances naturally leads to strange rencounters. It has often happened that wealth has been acquired, lost friends restored, estates bought and sold, etc., entirely through accidental meetings on the road. Men without heirs have been known in many instances to adopt a fellow-traveller, either from the fact of finding a person possessing the same name, or from some trifling civility or sacrifice being made in their favour by a stranger during a long and perhaps irksome journey.