In one respect the lot of a mail-guard did not compare favourably with that of his plebeian brethren on the stage-coaches. He rode throughout the night in a solitary position on the little seat on the hind-boot called the “dicky,” with the two outsides on the front part of the roof facing away from him. It was a rule for many years strictly enforced that the outside passengers of a mail-coach should be limited to three: one on the box-seat beside the coachman, and the other two with their backs to the guard, as described. It had its origin in the fear that, if more were allowed, it would be an easy matter for desperadoes to overpower coachman and guard, and to rob the mail. For the same reason, the only means of access to the hind-boot, in which the mails were stowed away in those early days, before the expansion of mail-matter caused the roof to be piled up with great sacks of letters and packets, was by a trap-door at the top, carefully locked, and on which the guard had his feet placed during the whole of the journey. Any infraction of the rule against allowing a passenger on the hind part of the coach was sure to bring instant dismissal, and for permitting an extra passenger on the roof the guard was fined £5. But some of the joys of a mail-guard’s life are recounted in the old verses:-- At each inn on the road I a welcome could find; At the Fleece I’d my skin full of ale; The Two Jolly Brewers were just to my mind; At the Dolphin I drank like a whale. Tom Tun at the Hogshead sold pretty good stuff; They’d capital flip at the Boar; And when at the Angel I’d tippled enough, I went to the Devil for more. There I’d always a sweetheart so snug in the bar; At the Rose I’d a lily so white; Few planets could equal sweet Nan at the Star, No eyes ever twinkled so bright. I’ve had many a hug at the sign of the Bear; In the Sun courted morning and noon; And when night put an end to my happiness there, I’d a sweet little girl in the Moon. To sweethearts and ale I at length bid adieu, Of wedlock to set up the sign; Hand-in-Hand the Good Woman I look for in you, And the Horns I hope ne’er will be mine. Once guard to the Mail, I’m now guard to the fair, But though my commission’s laid down, Yet while the King’s Arms I’m permitted to bear, Like a Lion I’ll fight for the Crown.