dine with him the same evening at his house. He is a bachelor, so we
dined alone and talked over all our old days on the Asiatic Station,
and of the changes which had come to us since we had last met there.
As I was leaving the next morning for my post at Petersburg, and had
many letters to write, I told him, about ten o'clock, that I must get
back to the hotel, and he sent out his servant to call a hansom.

"For the next quarter of an hour, as we sat talking, we could hear the
cab whistle sounding violently from the doorstep, but apparently with
no result.

"'It cannot be that the cabmen are on strike,' my friend said, as he
rose and walked to the window.

"He pulled back the curtains and at once called to me.

"'You have never seen a London fog, have you?' he asked. 'Well, come
here. This is one of the best, or, rather, one of the worst, of them.'
I joined him at the window, but I could see nothing. Had I not known
that the house looked out upon the street I would have believed that I
was facing a dead wall. I raised the sash and stretched out my head,
but still I could see nothing. Even the light of the street lamps
opposite, and in the upper windows of the barracks, had been smothered
in the yellow mist. The lights of the room in which I stood penetrated
the fog only to the distance of a few inches from my eyes.

"Below me the servant was still sounding his whistle, but I could
afford to wait no longer, and told my friend that I would try and find
the way to my hotel on foot. He objected, but the letters I had to
write were for the Navy Department, and, besides, I had always heard