A notable instance of the devotion to duty of a coachman and mail-guard, and one ill.u.s.trating the dangers and hardships which Post-office servants of that cla.s.s had to encounter, occurred in the winter of 1831.

On Tuesday the 1st February of that year, James M'George, mail-guard, and John Goodfellow, coachman, set out from Dumfries for Edinburgh at seven o'clock in the morning, and after extraordinary exertions reached Moffat,--beyond which, however, they found it impossible to proceed with the coach, owing to the acc.u.mulation of snow. They then procured saddle-horses, and with these, accompanied by a postboy, they went on, intending to continue their journey in this way. They had not proceeded beyond Erickstane Hill, a rising ground in close proximity to the well-known natural enclosure called the Deil's Beef-Tub, when it became evident that the horses could not make the journey, and these were sent back in charge of the postboy to Moffat. The guard and coachman, unwilling to give in, continued their journey on foot, having in view to reach a roadside inn at Tweedshaws, some two or three miles farther on.

The exact particulars of what thereafter happened will never be known, beyond this, that the mail-bags were afterwards found tied to one of the road-posts set up in like situations to mark the line of road on occasions of snowstorms, and that the two men perished in the drift. The last act performed by them, before being quite overcome by exhaustion and fatigue, was inspired by a sense of duty, their aim being to leave the bags where they would more readily be found by others, should they themselves not live to recover them. Shortly after this the two men appear to have succ.u.mbed; for their bodies were found five days afterwards within a hundred yards of the place where they left the bags, and where at the cost of their lives they had rendered their last service to the Post-office and their country.

"And down he sinks Beneath the shelter of the shapeless drift, Thinking o'er all the bitterness of death, Mix'd with the tender anguish Nature shoots Through the wrung bosom of the dying man, His wife, his children, and his friends unseen.

... On every nerve The deadly winter seizes; shuts up sense; And, o'er his inmost vitals creeping cold, Lays him along the snows, a stiffened corse, Stretch'd out, and bleaching in the northern blast."

--THOMSON.

We who are accustomed to the comforts of railway travelling, are nevertheless, in regard to accidents, very much like the ostrich; for though we do not purposely close our eyes to danger, we are nevertheless placed in such a position that we are unable, when shut up in a railway carriage, to see what is before us, or about to happen.

Far otherwise was the case in the days of coaching. The pa.s.sengers, as well as the drivers and guards, were not only exposed to the drenchings from long-continued rain, the terrible exposure to the cold night-air in winter travelling, and the danger of attack from highwaymen, but they ran the risks of all the accidents of the road, many of which they could see to be inevitable before they happened. There were occasions when pa.s.sengers were frozen to death on the coaches, and others when they fell off benumbed with cold. It is said sometimes that first impressions are often correct; but there are, of course, erroneous first impressions as well. A story is told of a mail-guard in Scotland who had the misfortune to be on a coach which upset, and from which all the outside people were thrown to the ground. The guard came down upon his head on the top of a stiff hedge, and from this temporary situation rolled into a ditch, where for a moment he lay. Coming to himself from a partial stupor, he imagined there was something wrong with the top of his head, and putting up his hand, he felt a flat surface, which to his dawning perception appeared to be a section of his neck, his impression being that his head had been cut off. This was, however, nothing but the crown of his hat, which, being forced down over his head and face, had probably saved him from more serious damage. Broken limbs were accidents of common occurrence; but affairs of much more serious import occasionally took place, of which the following is a notable example:--

On the night of Tuesday the 25th October 1808, the road between Carlisle and Glasgow was the scene of a catastrophe which will serve to ill.u.s.trate in a striking degree one of the perils of the postal service in the mail-coach era. The place where the event now to be described occurred, lies between Beattock and Elvanfoot (about five miles from the latter place), where the highway crosses the Evan Water, a stream which takes its rise near the sources of the Clyde, but whose waters are carried southward into Dumfriesshire. To be more precise, the situation is between two places called Raecleuch and Howcleuch, on the Carlisle road; and a bridge which now spans the water, in lieu of a former bridge, retains by a.s.sociation, to this day, the name of the "Broken Bridge."

It was at the breaking up of a severe storm of frost and snow, when the rivers were flooded to such an extent as had never been seen by the oldest people in the neighbourhood. The bridge had been but recently built; and though it was afterwards stated that the materials composing the mortar must have been of bad quality, no doubt would seem to have been entertained as to the security of the bridge. The night was dark, and accompanied by both wind and rain--elements which frequently usher in a state of thaw. The mail-coach having pa.s.sed the _summit_, was speeding along at a good round pace, the "outsiders" doubtless making themselves as comfortable as circ.u.mstances would allow, while the "insides," as we might imagine, had composed themselves into some semblance of sleep, the time being between nine and ten o'clock, when, suddenly and without warning, the whole equipage--horses, coach, driver, guard, and pa.s.sengers--on reaching the middle of the bridge, went headlong precipitate into the swollen stream through a chasm left by the collapse of the arch. It is by no means easy to realise what the thoughts would be of those concerned in this dreadful experience--pitched into a roaring torrent, in a most lonely place, at a late hour on such a night. The actual results were, however, very serious. The two leading horses were killed outright by the fall, while one of the wheelers was killed by a heavy stone descending upon it from the still impending portions of the wrecked structure. The coach and harness also were utterly destroyed. But, worse still, two outside pa.s.sengers, one a Mr Lund, a partner in a London house, and the other named Brand, a merchant in Ecclefechan, were killed on the spot, while a lady and three gentlemen who were inside pa.s.sengers miraculously escaped with their lives, though they were severely bruised. The lady, who had scrambled out of the vehicle, sought refuge on a rock in mid-stream, there remaining prisoner for a time; and by her means a second catastrophe of a similar kind was happily averted. The mail from Carlisle for Glasgow usually exchanged "Good-night" with the south-going coach, when they were running to time, just about the scene of the accident. Fortunately the coach from Carlisle was rather late; but when it did arrive, the lady on the rock, seeing the lights approach, screamed aloud, and thus warned the driver to draw up in time. Succour was now at hand. Something ludicrous generally finds itself in company with whatever is of a tragic nature. The guard of the Carlisle coach was let down to the place where the lady was, by means of the reins taken from the horses. _Hughie_ Campbell--that was the guard's name--when deliberating upon the plan of rescue, had some delicacy as to how he should affix the reins to the person of the lady, and called up to those above, "Where will I grip her?" But before he could be otherwise advised, the lady, long enough already on the rock, broke in, "Grip me where you like, but grip me firm," which observation at once removed Hughie's difficulty, and set his scruples at ease. The driver of the wrecked coach, Alexander Cooper, was at first thought to have been carried away; but he was afterwards found caught between two stones in the river. He survived the accident only a few weeks--serious injuries to his back proving fatal. As for the guard, Thomas Kinghorn, he was severely cut about the head, but eventually recovered.

It was usual for the coachman and guard over this wild and exposed road to be strapped to their seats in stormy weather; but on this occasion Kinghorn, as it happened, was not strapped, and to this circ.u.mstance he attributed his escape from death. When the mail went down, he was sent flying over the bridge, and alighted clear from the wreck of the coach.

The dead pa.s.sengers and the wounded persons were taken by the other coach into Moffat.

It may be added that the fourth horse was got out of its predicament little the worse for the fall, and continued to run for many a day over the same road; but it was always observed to evince great nervousness and excitement whenever it approached the scene of the accident.

Yet the mail-coach days had charms and attractions for travellers, if they at the same time had their drawbacks: the bustle and excitement of the start, when the horses were loosed and the driver let them have rein, under the eyes of interested and admiring spectators; the exhilarating gallop as a good pace was achieved on the open country-road; the keen relish of the meals, more especially of breakfast, at the neatly kept and hospitable inn; the blithe note of the guard's horn, as a turnpike-gate or the end of a stage was approached; and the hurried changing of horses from time to time as the journey progressed. Ever-varying scene is the characteristic of the occasion: the village with its rustic quiet, and odd characters, who were sure to present themselves as the coach flew by; the fresh and blooming fields; the soft and pastoral downs; the scented hedgerows in May and June; the stretches of road embowered with wood, affording a grateful shade in warm weather; the farmer's children swinging on a gate or over-topping a fence, and cheering l.u.s.tily with their small voices as the coach swept along. And then, the hours of twilight being past, when

"Day hath put on his jacket, and around His burning bosom b.u.t.toned it with stars,"

the eeriness of a night-journey would be experienced. During hard frost the clear ring of the horses' feet would be heard upon the road; the discomfort of fellow-pa.s.sengers rolling about in their places, overcome by sleep, would be felt; while in the solemn dulness of the darker hours of night the monotony of the situation would be relieved at intervals, in the mineral districts, by miniature mountains of blazing coal, shedding their lurid glare upon the coach as it pa.s.sed, and showing up the figures of soiled and dusky men employed thereat, thus creating a horrible impression upon the pa.s.sengers, and seeming to afford an effective representation of Dante's shadowy world.

Or, on occasions of great national triumph--when, for example, some important victory crowned our arms--the coach, decked out with ribbons or green leaves, would be the bearer of the joyful and intoxicating news down into the country,--the driver and guard, as the official representatives of the Crown, being the heroes of the hour.

But it may be of interest to learn what a mail-coach journey was from one who had just completed such a trip, and who, in the freshness of youth, and with the unreserve which can only subsist in correspondence between members of a family or dear friends, immediately commits his impressions to writing. We have a vivid sketch of a journey of this kind from no less a personage than Felix Mendelssohn, the great musical composer. Mendelssohn was at the time a young man of twenty: he had been making a tour in Scotland with his friend Klingemann--the visit being that from which, by the way, Mendelssohn derived inspiration for the composition of his delightful Scotch symphony; and the means by which he quitted the northern kingdom was by mail-coach from Glasgow to Liverpool. The following letter, descriptive of the journey, and dated August 19, 1829, is copied from an interesting work called 'The Mendelssohn Family':--

"We flew away from Glasgow on the top of the mail, ten miles an hour, past steaming meadows and smoking chimneys, to the c.u.mberland lakes, to Keswick, Kendal, and the prettiest towns and villages. The whole country is like a drawing-room. The rocky walls are papered with bushes, moss, and firs; the trees are carefully wrapped up in ivy; there are no walls or fences, only high hedges, and you see them all the way up flat hill-tops. On all sides carriages full of travellers fly along the roads; the corn stands in sheaves; slopes, hills, precipices, are all covered with thick, warm foliage. Then again our eyes dwelt on the dark-blue English distance--many a n.o.ble castle, and so on, until we reached Ambleside. There the sky turned gloomy again, and we had rain and storm. Sitting on the top of the 'stage,' and madly careering along ravines, past lakes, up-hill, down-hill, wrapped in cloaks, and umbrellas up, we could see nothing but railings, heaps of stones or ditches, and but rarely catch glimpses of hills and lakes. Sometimes our umbrellas sc.r.a.ped against the roofs of the houses, and then, wet through, we would come to a second-rate inn, with a high blazing fire, and English conversation about walking, coals, supper, the weather, and Bonaparte. Yesterday our seats on the coach were accidentally separated, so that I hardly spoke to Klingemann, for changing horses was done in about forty seconds. I sat on the box next by the coachman, who asked me whether I flirted much, and made me talk a good deal, and taught me the slang of horsemanship. Klingemann sat next to two old women, with whom he shared his umbrella. Again manufactories, meadows, parks, provincial towns, here a ca.n.a.l, there a railway, then the sea with ships, six full coaches with towering outsiders following each other; in the evening a thick fog, the stage running madly in the darkness. Through the fog we see lamps gleaming all about the horizon; the smoke of manufactories envelops us on all sides; gentlemen on horseback ride past; one coach-horn blows in B flat, another in D, others follow in the distance, and here we are at Liverpool."

Speed was of the first consideration, and the stoppages at the wayside stages were of very limited duration. At an inn, the travellers would hardly have made a fair start in appeasing their hunger, when the guard would be heard calling upon them to take their seats, which, with mouths full, and still hungry, they would be forced to do, though with a bad grace and a growl--the acknowledged privilege of Englishmen. A story is told of one pa.s.senger, however, who was equal to the occasion. Leisurely sipping his tea and eating his toast, this traveller was found by the landlord in the breakfast-room when the other pa.s.sengers were seated and the coach was on the point of starting. Boniface appealed to him to take his place, or he would be left behind. "But," replied the traveller, "_that_ I will not do till I have a spoon to sup my egg." A glance apprised the landlord that not a spoon adorned the table, and rushing out he detained the coach while all the pa.s.sengers were searched for the missing articles. Then out came the satisfied traveller, who also submitted to be searched, and afterwards mounted the coach; and as the mail drove off he called to the landlord to look inside the teapot, where the artful traveller had placed the dozen spoons, with the double object of cooling the tea for his second cup, and detaining the coach till he drank it.

The ill.u.s.tration here inserted, from an old print, shows a pa.s.senger securing refreshment on a cold night.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Nocturnal Refreshment.]

In the year 1836 the speed of some of the mail-coaches was nearly ten miles an hour, including stoppages, and this was kept up over very long distances. From Edinburgh to London, a distance of 400 miles, the time allowed was forty-five and a half hours; in the opposite direction the time was curtailed to forty-two and a half hours. From London to York, 197 miles, twenty hours were allowed; London to Manchester, 185 miles, nineteen hours; London to Exeter, 176 miles, nineteen hours; London to Holyhead, 259 miles, twenty-seven hours; London to Devonport, 216 miles, twenty-one hours. But in the earlier days of the mail-coach, travelling was much less rapid; for we find that in 1804 the mail-coach from Perth to Edinburgh, a distance by way of Fife of 40 miles, took eight hours for the journey, including stoppages and the transit by Ferry across the Forth--that is, at the rate of five miles an hour. The mail-guards rode about twelve hours at a stretch--quite long enough, in all conscience, on a wet or frosty night.

But though in the earlier days of the mail-coaches the speed achieved by them, even on the main lines, was probably not more than seven or eight miles an hour, the people at head-quarters would seem to have regarded this as a thing not to be trifled with; for in a Postmaster-General's minute of 1791, directing that, owing to the frequent robberies, a caution should be given to the public against sending bank notes otherwise than in halves, the following bit of advice is added. The minute directs that the notice shall contain "also a printed caution at the foot of the Table, directing all persons to avoid, as far as may be, sending any cash by the post, _partly from the prejudice it does the coin by the friction it occasions from the great expedition with which it is conveyed_, and especially as the cash is so liable to fall out of the letter by jolting, and to be found at the bottom of the bag," &c. It would be a species of high treason to treat with levity any kind of expression or decision proceeding from a reigning Postmaster-General, but at this safe distance of time we may venture to smile at the idea here propounded, that coins would seriously suffer by _sweating_ in a mail-bag conveyed by coach at the surprising rate of eight miles an hour. Such ill-founded apprehensions of the mail-coach speed were not, however, confined to post officials, for Lord Campbell was frequently warned against the danger of travelling in this way, and instances were cited to him in which pa.s.sengers died from apoplexy induced by the rapidity with which these vehicles travelled!

An incident of a romantic nature happened about the year 1780 in connection with the stage-coach (not a mail-coach, however, be it noted) running between Edinburgh and Glasgow at that period. The stage-coach, drawn by four horses, had been on the road for many years, having been established about the year 1758. The time occupied in the journey was twelve hours; nor, down to the period in question, had any acceleration taken place. A young lady of Glasgow, of distinguished beauty, having to travel to Edinburgh, a lover whose suit towards her had not hitherto proved successful, took the remaining tickets for the journey, and so became her sole companion on the way. By a.s.siduous attentions, and all the winsome ways which the tender pa.s.sion knows to suggest, as well as by earnestness of pursuit, the lover won the lady to his favour, and she soon thereafter became his wife. But the full day did not justify the brightness of the morning: the husband failed to prove himself worthy of his good fortune; "and the lady, in a state worse than widowhood, was, a few years after, the subject of the celebrated Clarinda correspondence of Burns."

In addition to the obvious duties of the mail-guards--to protect the mails and carry out their exchange at the several stations--they were sometimes required to perform special duties unconnected with Post-office work. They were, for example, called upon to keep watch in the early part of the present century upon French prisoners of war who might be breaking their parole, a likely way of escaping being by the mail-coaches. The guards were instructed to question any suspicious foreigner travelling by the coach, and to report the matter to the postmaster at the first town at which they arrived. This was doubtless looked upon as a pleasure rather than as a hardship; for they were reminded that the usual reward was ten guineas each--not a bad price for a Frenchman under the circ.u.mstances.

No record of the mail-coach days would be complete without a description of the annual procession of mail-coaches which used to be held in the metropolis on the monarch's birthday. As every corporation or society has its saint's day, or yearly festival, so the Jehus of the Post-office were not without theirs; an occasion on which they showed themselves to advantage, and drew admiring crowds to behold them. The following account of one of these displays is from the 'Annals of the Road,' a work of great interest on subjects connected with coaching generally; and as the description is given with spirit and apparent truthfulness, we cannot do better than give it at length, and in this way bring the present chapter to a close:--

"The great day of the year was the King's birthday, when a goodly procession of four-in-hands started from the great coach manufactory of Mr John Vidler, in the neighbourhood of Millbank, and wended its way to St Martin's-le-Grand. Splendid in fresh paint and varnish, gold lettering and Royal arms, they were the perfection of neatness and practical utility in build, horsed to perfection, and _leathered_ to match. They were driven by coachmen who, as well as the guards behind, were arrayed in spick-and-span new scarlet and gold. No delicate bouquets, but mighty nosegays of the size of a cabbage, adorned the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of these portly mail coachmen and guards, while bunches of cabbage-roses decorated the heads of the proud steeds. In the cramped interior of the vehicles were closely packed buxom dames and blooming la.s.sies, the wives, daughters, or sweethearts of the coachmen or guards, the fair pa.s.sengers arrayed in coal-scuttle bonnets and in canary-coloured or scarlet silks. On this great occasion the guard was allowed two seats and the coachman two, no one allowed on the roof. But the great feature, after all, was that stirring note, so clearly blown and well drawn out, and every now and again sounded by the guards, and alternated with such airs as 'The Days when we went Gipsying,' capitally played on a key-bugle. Should a mail come late, the tune from a pa.s.sing one would be, 'Oh, dear! what can the matter be?' This key-bugle was no part of the mail equipment, but was nevertheless frequently used.

"Heading the procession was the oldest-established mail, which would be the Bristol. On the King's birthday, 1834, there were 27 coaches in the procession. They all wore hammer-cloths, and both guard and coachman were in red liveries, the latter being furnished by the mail contractor.

They wore beaver hats with gold lace and c.o.c.kades. Such a thing as a low billyc.o.c.k hat was not to be seen on any coach anywhere. Sherman's mails were drawn by black horses, and on these occasions their harness was of red morocco.

[Ill.u.s.tration: St Martin's-le-Grand in the Coaching Days.]

"The coaches were new each year. In these days bra.s.s mountings were rarely known; plated or silver only were in use. On the starting of the procession, the bells of the neighbouring churches rang out merrily, continuing their rejoicing peals till it arrived at the General Post-office. Many country squires, who were always anxious that their best horses should have a few turns in the mail-coaches in travelling, sent up their horses to figure in the procession.

"From Millbank the procession pa.s.sed by St James's Palace, at the windows of which, above the porch, stood King William and his Queen. The Duke of Richmond (then Postmaster-General) and the Duke of Wellington stood there also. Each coach as it pa.s.sed saluted the King, the coachman and guard standing up and taking off their hats. The appearance of the smart coaches, emblazoned with the Royal arms, orders, &c., coachman and guard got up to every advantage, with their nosegays stuck in their brand-new scarlet liveries, was at this point strikingly grand. The inspectors of mail-coaches rode in front of the procession on horseback."

CHAPTER IV.

FOOT-POSTS.

"I know of no more universally popular personage than this humble official. Bearer of love-letters, post-office orders, cheques, little carefully tied packages, all the more charming that it is difficult to get at their contents, it is who shall be first to open the door to him. He is welcomed everywhere; smiling faces greet him at every door. In England, the postman is the hero of Christmas time; so he strikes the iron while it is hot, and on Boxing-day comes round to ask for a reward, which all are ready to give without grudging."--Max O'Rell in 'John Bull and his Island.'

Though in former times foot-messengers--or, as they are called, post-runners--were employed to convey many of the princ.i.p.al mails over long stretches of country, their work in this way has been almost wholly superseded by the railway and by horse-posts; and while post-runners are perhaps now numerically stronger than they ever were, their work is princ.i.p.ally confined nowadays to what may be termed the capillary service of the Post-office. They are chiefly employed in conveying correspondence between country towns and the outlying points forming the outskirts or fringes of inhabited districts. These men have in many cases very arduous work, being required to walk from sixteen to twenty-four miles a-day; and it is not improbable that the circ.u.mstances of these later times make the duties more trying in some respects than they were formerly. For the messengers are so timed for arrival and departure that they are prevented from taking shelter on occasions of storm, and are obliged to plod on in spite of the elements; whereas in remote times, when a runner took several days to cover his ground, he could rest and take refuge at one stage, and make up lost time at another. Be this, however, as it may, it is the fact that very many post-runners die from that insidious disease, consumption.

In the year 1590, the magistrates of Aberdeen established a post for conveying their despatches to and from Edinburgh, and other places where the royal residence might for the time be. This inst.i.tution was called the "Council Post"; and the messenger was dressed in a garment of blue cloth, with the armorial bearings of the town worked in silver on his right sleeve. In the year 1715, there was not a single horse-post in Scotland, all the mails being conveyed by runners on foot; and the ground covered by these posts extended from Edinburgh as far north as Thurso, and westward as far as Inveraray. About the year 1750, an improved plan of forwarding the mails was introduced in Scotland by the horse-posts proceeding only from stage to stage--the mails being transferred to a fresh postboy at each point; but in the majority of cases the mails were still carried by foot-runners. Before the change of system the plan of proceeding was this, taking the north road as an example: "A person set out with the mail from Edinburgh to Aberdeen: he did not travel a stage and then deliver the mail to another postboy, but went on to Dundee, where he rested the first night; to Montrose, where he stayed the second; and on the third he arrived at Aberdeen; and as he pa.s.sed by Kinghorn, it behoved the tide, and sometimes also the weather, to render the time of his arrival more late and uncertain."

The plan of conveying mails by the same runners over long distances continued much later, however; for we find that in 1799 a post-runner travelled from Inverness to Lochcarron--a distance across country as the crow flies of about fifty miles--making the journey once a-week, for which he was paid five shillings. Another messenger at the same period made the journey from Inverness to Dunvegan in Skye--a much greater distance--also once a-week, the hebdomadal stipend in this instance being seven shillings and sixpence.

As with the postboys, so with the runners; the surveyors seem to have had some trouble in keeping them to their prescribed duties, as will be gathered from the following report written in the year 1800: "I found it had been the general practice for the post from Bonaw to Appin to lodge regularly all night at or near the house of Ardchattan, and did not cross Shien till the following morning, losing twelve hours to the Appin, Strontian, and Fort William districts of country; and I consider it an improvement of itself to remove such private lodgings or accommodations out of the way of posts, which, as I have been informed, is sometimes done for the sake of perusing newspapers, as well as answering or writing letters."

Nor was the speed of the foot-posts--in some cases, at any rate--very much to boast of, these humble messengers being at times heavily weighted with the correspondence they had to carry. In the year 1805, before the Dumbarton to Inveraray mail service was raised to the dignity of a horse-post, the surveyor, in referring to the necessity for the employment of horses, thus deplores the situation: "I have sometimes observed these mails, at leaving Dumbarton, about three stones or forty-eight pounds weight, and they are generally above two stones.

During the course of last winter, horses were obliged to be occasionally employed; and it is often the case that a strong Highlander, with so great weight on him, cannot travel more than _two miles an hour_, which greatly r.e.t.a.r.ds the general correspondence of this extensive district of country."

In winter-time, and on occasions of severe storms, the post-runners have sometimes to endure great fatigue; and it is then that their loyalty to the service is put to the test. An instance of stern fidelity to duty on the part of one of these men, at the time of the snowstorm of 1836, formed the subject of a pet.i.tion to the Postmaster-General from the inhabitants of Sheerness and the Isle of Sheppy.

The doc.u.ment recites that a foot-messenger named John Wright continued for nine days, from the 25th December 1836, to carry the mails between Sheerness and Sittingbourne--a distance for the double journey of about twenty-four miles. At the end of this time he was so completely exhausted and overcome by the effects of cold and exposure, that he had to give up duty for a time. The memorial sets forth that "the road is circuitous and crooked, through marshes, and very exposed, without any protection from the drift (in many places very deep), and with a ditch on either side--the water of which was frozen just sufficient to bear the weight of the snow, thereby rendering the travelling extremely hazardous, inasmuch as the dangers were in a great measure unseen; and had the postman mistaken his road (which from the frequent drifting of the snow, and the absence of traffic at that time was often untracked), and fallen into one of these ditches, he must no doubt have perished."

It appeared further, that between the two places there was a ferry which the postman had to cross, and that in making the pa.s.sage on the night of the 25th December, the boat in which he was nearly swamped, and he "was compelled to escape through mud and water up to his waist." It is not an uncommon thing for messengers to lose their lives in the discharge of their duties, and a severe winter seldom pa.s.ses without some fatality of this kind. In the winter of 1876-77, a sad accident befell a messenger employed in Northumberland. On a night of intense darkness and storm, this man turned off the usual road in order to avoid crossing a swollen stream; and subsequently losing his way, he sank down and died, overcome by exposure and fatigue. In another case a messenger at Lochcarron, in Scotland, being unable to pursue his usual route over a mountain 2000 feet high, on account of a heavy fall of snow, proceeded by water to complete his journey; but the boat which he had engaged capsized, and both the messenger and two other persons who accompanied him were drowned. A few years ago, on the evening of Christmas-day, a rural messenger at Bannow, in Ireland, while on his return journey along a narrow path flanked on each side by a deep ditch, is believed to have been tripped by a furze-root, and being precipitated into one of the ditches, was unfortunately drowned. The rural post-messengers having, moreover, to visit isolated houses along their route, are exposed to the attacks of dogs kept about the premises. A few years ago a rural messenger was delivering letters at a farmhouse, when he was severely bitten by a retriever dog, and he died six weeks afterwards from teta.n.u.s.

It is perhaps in the Western Highlands and Islands of Scotland that the most trying conditions for the rural messengers present themselves. From Ullapool to Coigach and Rieff in Ross-shire, for example, a journey of twenty-six miles, the messenger travels out one day, and back again the next. Proceeding from Ullapool, the main road is followed for about three miles, when the man strikes off into the hills, and after a time reaches a river. This he is enabled sometimes to cross by means of stepping-stones; but so often does the water cover these, that he is generally obliged to ford it, and in doing so gets himself thoroughly wet. Then he pursues a course along or over one of the most dangerous rocks in Scotland for a distance of three or four miles, the rock in some places being so precipitous that he is obliged to cling to it for dear life.[2] After pa.s.sing this rock he continues some distance further over the hills, and ultimately regains the main road, by which he completes his journey. Apart altogether from the dangerous character of the road, the distance which the post-runner has to walk day after day must necessarily be severe and trying work.

[2] Route changed since 1885.

From Lochmaddy to Castlebay there is a chain of posts seventy-five miles long, served partly by foot-messengers, partly by horse-posts, and partly by boats. The line is intersected by dangerous ferries, one between Kilbride and Barra being six miles wide, and exposed to the full force of the waves from the Atlantic. From Garrynahine to Miavaig, in the island of Lewis, there is another dangerous service, partly by foot-post and partly by boat, the distance being seventeen miles. The road lies all through bog--a dreary waste--while the sea portion is on a most exposed part of the coast.

These are a few instances of the laborious and dangerous services performed by the rural postmen. Their brother officers in the towns, though in many cases having quite hard enough work (Mr Anthony Trollope tells that the hardest day's work he ever did in his life was accompanying a Glasgow postman up and down stairs on his beat), have not the exposure of the men in the country; and as they are familiar to the eyes of every one, any special notice of them here would be out of place.

It may, however, be mentioned, that the men who formerly delivered letters in small towns were not always in the pay of the Post-office or under its control. This appears by an official report of 1810, relating to the town service of Greenock, which runs as follows: "As the Greenock letter-carrier is not paid by Government, nor _their_ appointment properly in us, they are of course elected by the magistrates or inhabitants of the town, who have the right to choose their own carriers, or call for their letters at the office."