Read Ebook: The Royal Mail: Its Curiosities and Romance by Hyde James Wilson

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being extracted, he pursued his journey for London, leaving the chariot and ladies in the situation where they were first seen."

"The Devonport mail arrived at half-past eleven o'clock. The guard, who had travelled with it from Ilminster, a distance of 140 miles, states that journey to have been a most trying one to both men and cattle. The storm commenced when they reached Wincanton, and never afterwards ceased. The wind blew fresh, and the snow and sleet in crossing Salisbury Plain were driving into their faces so as almost to blind them. Between Andover and Whitchurch the mail was stuck fast in a snowdrift, and the horses, in attempting to get out, were nearly buried. The coachman got down, and almost disappeared in the drift upon which he alighted. Fortunately, at this juncture, a waggon with four horses came up, and by unyoking these from the waggon and attaching them to the mail, it was got out of the hollow in which it was sunk."

These are some of the reports, written at the time, of the disorganisation of the mail-service in consequence of the snowstorm. Some slight idea of the magnitude of the drifts may be obtained from one or two additional particulars. The mail proceeding from Exeter for London was five times buried in the snow, and had to be dug out. A mail-coach got off the road seven miles from Louth, and went over into a gravel-pit, one of the horses being killed and the guard severely bruised. So deeply was another coach buried on this line of road that it took 300 men, principally sappers and miners, working several hours, to make a passage to the coach and rescue the mails and passengers. Near Chatham the snow lay to a depth of 30 or 40 feet, and the military were turned out to the number of 600 to clear the roads.

On the line of road from Chatham to Dover, a sum of ?700 was spent by the road-trustees in opening up the road for the resumption of traffic, an official report stating that for 26 miles the road "was blocked up by an impenetrable mass of snow varying from 3 feet to 18 feet in depth."

Between Leicester and Northampton cuttings were made, just wide enough for a coach to pass, where the snow was heaped up to a height of 30, 40, and in some places 50 feet. About a stage from Coventry, near a place called Dunchurch, seventeen coaches were reported to be laid up in the snow; and in other parts of the country a similar wholesale derangement or stoppage of road-traffic took place.

On the 9th January 1837, an official report set forth that "the mail-coach road between Louth and Sheffield had on the 6th inst. been closed twelve days in consequence of the snow, and it is stated that it will be a week before the mail can run." An attempt was made to get the mail forward from Lewes to London by post-chaise and four horses; but after proceeding about a mile from the town, the chaise returned, the driver reporting that it was impossible to proceed, as the main road was quite blocked up with snow to a depth of 10 or 12 feet.

These were the good old times; and no doubt to us they have a romance, though to the people who lived in them they had a very practical aspect.

The general instructions to mail-guards in cases of breakdown were as follows:--

"When the coach is so broke down that it cannot proceed as it is on its way to London, if you have not above two passengers, and you can procure a post-chaise without loss of time, get them and the mail forward in that way, with the horses that used to draw the mail-coach, that they may be in their places ; and if you have lost any time, you must endeavour to fetch it up, which may be easily done, as the chaise is lighter than the coach.

"If you cannot get a post-chaise, take off one of the coach-horses, and ride with your bags to the next stage; there take another horse,--and so on till you come to the end of your ground, when you must deliver the bags to the next guard, who must proceed in the same manner. If your mail is so large that one horse cannot carry it, you may take two; tie the mail on one horse and ride the other. The person who horses the mail must order his horsekeeper at every stage to furnish you with horses in case of accidents. Change your horses at every post-town, and do all your office-duty the same as if the coach travelled.

"If in travelling from London an accident happens, use all possible expedition in repairing the coach to proceed; and if it cannot be repaired in an hour or two, take the mail forward by horse or chaise--if the latter, the passengers will go with you."

In pursuance of these instructions, many instances of devotion to duty were given by the mail-guards, in labouring to get the mails forward in the midst of the snowstorm of 1836.

On the 26th of December the Birmingham mail-coach, proceeding to London, got rather beyond Aylesbury, where it broke down. Some things having been set right, another effort was made, and some little further way made; but the attempt to go on had to be given up, for the snow was getting deeper at every step. A hurricane was blowing, accompanied with a fall of fine snow, and the horses shook with extreme cold. In these circumstances, Price the mail-guard mounted one of the horses, tied his mail-bags on the back of another, and set out for London. He was joined farther on by two postboys on other horses with the bye-bags, and all three journeyed in company. The road-marks being frequently effaced, they were constantly deviating from their proper course, clearing gates, hedges, and ditches; but having a general knowledge of the lie of the country, and Price being possessed of good nerves, they succeeded in reaching the metropolis. The guard was in a distressing state of exhaustion when he reached his destination. This was only one instance of the way in which the guards acquitted themselves during this memorable storm, and for their great exertions they received the special thanks of the Postmaster-General.

At a place called Cavendish Bridge the mails were arrested by the storm, and the exertions of the coachman and guard were thus referred to by a private gentleman of the neighbourhood, who communicated with the Post-office on the subject: "I take leave to remark that the zeal and industry evinced by the guard and coachman, more especially the former , upon the trying occasion to which your communication has reference, was well worthy of imitation, and formed a striking contrast to the reprehensible apathy of two gentlemen who were inside passengers by the mail."

A notable instance of the devotion to duty of a coachman and mail-guard, and one illustrating the dangers and hardships which Post-office servants of that class 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 accumulation 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 succumbed; 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 passengers, 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 passengers 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 illustrate 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 , 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 association, to this day, the name of the "Broken Bridge."

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 circumstance 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 passengers 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 lustily 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 buttoned 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-passengers 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 passed, and showing up the figures of soiled and dusky men employed thereat, thus creating a horrible impression upon the passengers, 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 Cumberland 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 noble 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 scraped 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 canal, 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."

The illustration here inserted, from an old print, shows a passenger securing refreshment on a cold night.

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.

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 circumstances.

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:--

"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 cockades. Such a thing as a low billycock 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.

"The coaches were new each year. In these days brass 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 passed by St James's Palace, at the windows of which, above the porch, stood King William and his Queen. The Duke of Richmond and the Duke of Wellington stood there also. Each coach as it passed 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."

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 principal 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 principally 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 circumstances 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 institution 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 passed 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."

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 petition to the Postmaster-General from the inhabitants of Sheerness and the Isle of Sheppy.

The document 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 , 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 , 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 passage 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 passes 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 tetanus.

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. After passing 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.

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 , 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.

MAIL-PACKETS.

The employment of vessels for the conveyance of mails seems to have passed through three several stages, each no doubt merging into the next, but each retaining, nevertheless, distinct features of its own. First, there was the stage when Government equipped and manned its own ships for the service; then there was an age of very heavy subsidies to shipping companies who could not undertake regularity of sailing without some such assistance; and now there is the third stage, when, through the great development of international trade and the consequent competition of rival shipowners, regularity of sailing is ensured apart from the post, and the Government is able to make better terms for the conveyance of the mails.

It is curious to take a glimpse of the conditions under which the early packets sailed, when they were often in danger of having to fight or fly. The instructions to the captains were to run while they could, fight when they could no longer run, and to throw the mails overboard when fighting would no longer avail. In 1693, such a ship as then performed the service was described as one of "eighty-five tons and fourteen guns, with powder, shot, and firearms, and all other munitions of war." A poor captain, whose ship the 'Grace Dogger' was lying in Dublin Bay awaiting the tide, fell into the hands of the enemy, a French privateer having seized his ship and stripped her of rigging, sails, spars, and yards, and of all the furniture "wherewith she had been provided for the due accommodation of passengers, leaving not so much as a spoone or a naile-hooke to hang anything on." The unfortunate ship in its denuded state was ransomed from its captors for fifty guineas. If we may judge from this case, the fighting of the packets does not seem always to have been satisfactory; and the Postmasters-General of the day, deeming discretion the better part of valour, set about building packets that should escape the enemy. They did build new vessels, but so low did they rest in the water that the Postmasters-General wrote of them thus: "Wee doe find that in blowing weather they take in soe much water that the men are constantly wet all through, and can noe ways goe below to change themselves, being obliged to keep the hatches shut to save the vessel from sinking, which is such a discouragement of the sailors, that it will be of the greatest difficulty to get any to endure such hardshipps in the winter weather." These flying ships not proving a success, the Postmasters-General then determined to build "boats of force to withstand the enemy," adopting the bull-dog policy as the only course open in the circumstances. It may be interesting to recall how these packets were manned. In May 1695 the crews of the packets between Harwich and Holland were placed on the following footing:--

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