It has been pointed out by a recent writer that the Mail Bag Apparatus now in use on the railways had its prototype in the days of the stage coaches, when the Mail bags were held out on the end of a stick to be clutched by the guard as the coach hurried past. Many of these exchanges were, of course, made in the night, and a former officer of the Surveying Staff in the North of Scotland vouches for the truth of the following anecdote. At one of the offices in Caithness—Dunbeath, he believes—the coach used to pass very early in the morning, and the Sub-Postmaster was in the habit of keeping the bags ready for despatch in his bedroom. The blowing of the horn warned him of the approach of the coach, and the guard used to come and receive the bags out of the bedroom window. Once, on a dark rainy night, the guard was handed what he supposed to be the Mail bags, and the coach proceeded some little distance on its way, when, to his disgust, the guard discovered that instead of Mail bags he was carrying off a portion of the Sub-Postmaster’s apparel. The coach was turned back, and once more, to his astonishment, the sleepy Sub-Postmaster heard the tootle of the horn and hastened to the window to inquire what might be the matter. “Hey, mon!” shouted the guard, “gie’s the bags an’ tak’ in yer breeks!” Needless to say the incident afforded the passengers much amusement. In taking leave of the last of the old Mail Coach Guards we may quote from a recent issue of the _Daily Telegraph_ the following paragraph relative to one who was perhaps the oldest surviving stage coachman:— “One of the olden time has passed away in William Clements of Canterbury, who, before the present century had reached its twenties, drove the famous ‘Tally-ho’ Coach which plied between the Cathedral City and Gracechurch Street. More than once he had to run the gauntlet of robbers and highwaymen, of whom, however, he had a decidedly low opinion. Railways killed his Coach. Clements reluctantly admitted the superiority of the iron horse to his own teams, although he never relinquished the idea that England’s degeneracy commenced when the ‘Tally-ho’ and other coaches were vanquished by ‘Puffing Billy.’ He died in his ninety-first year, and perhaps is entitled to be called the ‘Last of the Whips.’”