ribes how the
guards, some fifty years ago, would playfully deal with the youngsters
who worked the "apparatus," by not only seizing the bag but also the
stick, and causing the young people to run long distances after the
coach in order to recover it. The fun was all very well, says the
sub-postmaster, in the genial nights of summer; "but when the cold
nights of winter came round, it was our turn to play a trick upon the
guard, when both he and the driver were numbed with cold and fast
asleep, and the four horses going at full speed. It was not easy to
arouse the guard to take the bag; and just fancy the rare gift of
Christian charity that caused us youngsters to run and roar after the
fast-running mail-coach to get quit of the bag. It used to be a weary
business waiting the mail-coach coming along from the south when the
roads were stormed up with snow or otherwise delayed. It required some
tact to hold up the bag, as the glare of the lamps prevented us from
seeing the guard as he came up with his red coat and blowing a long tin
horn."

Some curious notions were prevalent of the effect of travelling by
mail-coach--the rate being about eight or ten miles an hour. Lord
Campbell was frequently warned against the danger of journeying this
way, and instances were cited to him of passengers dying of apoplexy
induced by the rapidity with which the vehicles travelled. In 1791
the Postmaster-General gave directions that the public should be warned
against sending any cash by post, partly, as he stated, "from the
prejudice it does to the coin by the friction it occasions from the
great expedition with which it is conveyed." After all, speed is merely
a relative thing.

[Illustration: MODERN MAIL "APPARATUS" FOR EXCHANGE OF MAIL-BAGS:
SETTING THE POUCH--EARLY MORNING.]

Although, as previously stated, open attacks were not often made upon
the coaches, robberies of the bags conveyed by them were quite
common--chiefly at night--and we may assume that they were made possible
through the carelessness of the guards. It would be a long story to go
fully into this matter. Let a couple of instances suffice. On the last
day of February 1810, in the evening, a mail-coach at Barnet was robbed
of sixteen bags for provincial towns by the wrenching off the lock while
the horses were changing. And on the 19th November of the same year
seven bags for London were stolen from the coach at Bedford about nine
o'clock in the evening.

The autho