crowned and completed our efforts. And then
the coachman cracked his whip, the guard's horn gave forth once more its
notes of triumph, and the coach rolled away, bearing the thrilling news
into other districts."

The writer of the interesting work called _Glasgow, Past and Present_,
gives the following realistic account of the arrival of the London mail
in Glasgow in war-time:--

"During the time of the French war it was quite exhilarating to observe
the arrival of the London mail-coach in Glasgow, when carrying the first
intelligence of a great victory, like the battle of the Nile, or the
battle of Waterloo. The mail-coach horses were then decorated with
laurels, and a red flag floated on the roof of the coach. The guard,
dressed in his best scarlet coat and gold ornamented hat, came galloping
at a thundering pace along the stones of the Gallowgate, sounding his
bugle amidst the echoings of the streets; and when he arrived at the
foot of Nelson Street he discharged his blunderbuss in the air. On these
occasions a general run was made to the Tontine Coffee-room to hear the
great news, and long before the newspapers were delivered the public
were advertised by the guard of the particulars of the great victory,
which fled from mouth to mouth like wildfire."

The mail-guards, and also the coachmen, were a race of men by
themselves, modelled and fashioned by the circumstances of their
employment--in fact, receiving character, like all other sets of people,
from their peculiar environment. There are now very few of them
remaining, and these very old men. These officers of the Post Office
mixed with all sorts of people, learned a great deal from the
passengers, and were full of romance and anecdote. We remember one guard
whose conversation and accounts of funny things were so continuous that
his hearers were kept in a constant state of ecstasy whenever he was
set agoing. His fund of story seemed inexhaustible, and we can imagine
how hilariously would pass away the hours on the outside of a mail-coach
with such a companion. The guard of whom we are speaking was a north
countryman, possessed of a stalwart frame and iron constitution, a man
with whom a highwayman would rather avoid getting into grips. He used to
tell of an occasion on which the driver, being drunk, fell from his box,
and the horses bolted. He himself was seated in his place at the rear of
the coach. The state of things was serious. He however scrambled over