"That's where Lord Tredegar buried his charger; he made that mound himself."
Then, again, a cabman is always supposed to be a driving encyclopedia. When Newport cabmen are driving along Caerleon Road or Chepstow Road, credulous individuals ask them the name of every house and place they pass, what it means and what it is. Strangers want to know, and you must tell them something. There is an extraordinary tradition about a cabman driving along a road, when a lady fare asked him what "that mountain was with the tump on the top." "But what is the tump for?" persisted the lady. "Oh, that's where Lord Tredegar buried his charger; he made that mound himself," was the reply. Such stories are very interesting and amusing, but they spoil history, and that is why I think we are indebted to cabmen for the extraordinary traditions that go about the country.
Cabmen's Dinner, Newport,
November 5th, 1898.
Cabmen have traditionally bad characters, and are supposed to possess a vocabulary which is not taught in the Intermediate Schools. They are also supposed to have a special method of calculating distances and coin. All those ideas are exploded like nursery rhymes, such as "Whittington and his Cat." Cabmen are well looked after. There is the Excise Officer and the Cruelty to Animals Society, and, if these are not enough, there is the Watch Committee.
Cabmen's Dinner, Newport,
November 6th, 1899.
But the top of a 'bus
Is the place for us
To see the coves go by."
You have to compete with tramcars, motor cars, and all kinds of horrible conveyances. Having been interested in nursery rhymes since I was very young, I have been looking through some children's books during the last few days to see what is provided for the children of these days, and I came across the following lines in a book for children:—