A railway line runs into Thrums now. The sensational days of the post-office were when the letters were conveyed officially in a creaking old cart from Tilliedrum. The “pony” had seen better days than the cart, and always looked as if he were just on the point of succeeding in running away from it. Hooky Crewe was driver--so called because an iron hook was his substitute for a right arm. Robbie Proctor, the blacksmith, made the hook and fixed it in. Crewe suffered from rheumatism, and when he felt it coming on he stayed at home. Sometimes his cart came undone in a snow-drift; when Hooky, extricated from the fragments by some chance wayfarer, was deposited with his mail-bag (of which he always kept a grip by the hook) in a farmhouse. It was his boast that his letters always reached their destination eventually. They might be a long time about it, but “slow _and_ sure” was his motto. Hooky emphasized his “slow _and_ sure” by taking a snuff. He was a godsend to the postmistress, for to his failings or the infirmities of his gig were charged all delays. At the time I write of, the posting of the letter took as long and was as serious an undertaking as the writing. That means a good deal, for many of the letters were written to dictation by the Thrums school-master, Mr. Fleemister, who belonged to the Auld Kirk. He was one of the few persons in the community who looked upon the despatch of his letters by the post-mistress as his right, and not a favor on her part; there was a long-standing feud between them accordingly. After a few tumblers of Widow Stables' treacle-beer--in the concoction of which she was the acknowledged mistress for miles around--the schoolmaster would sometimes go the length of hinting that he could get the post-mistress dismissed any day. This mighty power seemed to rest on a knowledge of “steamed” letters. Thrums had a high respect for the school-master; but among themselves the weavers agreed that, even if he did write to the Government, Lizzie Harrison, the post-mistress, would refuse to transmit the letter. The more shrewd ones among us kept friends with both parties; for, unless you could write “writ-hand,” you could not compose a letter without the school-master's assistance; and, unless Lizzie was so courteous as to send it to its destination, it might lie--or so it was thought--much too long in the box. A letter addressed by the schoolmaster found great disfavor in Lizzie's eyes. You might explain to her that you had merely called in his assistance because you were a poor hand at writing yourself, but that was held no excuse. Some addressed their own envelopes with much labor, and sought to palm off the whole as their handiwork. It reflects on the post-mistress somewhat that she had generally found them out by next day, when, if in a specially vixenish mood, she did not hesitate to upbraid them for their perfidy.