“Ma name,” he said, eyeing Milton sternly, and giving each syllable its just weight, “is Aircheebald MacKittrick; an' gin ye hae ony complaint against me for neglect o' duty, ye can lodge it wi' the Postmaister-General, speecifyin' parteeclars, sic as late arrival or omittin' tae deliver, an' a'll hae the sateesfaction o' cairryin' yer letter pairt o' the way tae its desteenation. “A 've ma, public capaucity as an officer of the Crown”--Posty was now master of the situation and grew more awful every moment--“an' there a'm open tae creeticism. In ma private capaucity as a free-born Scot, the Queen hersel' has nae business tae interfere wi' me. Whether a' prefer speerits or limejuice for ma tastin' “--Milton had once deceived Posty with the latter seductive fluid--“whether a' mairry ae wife or three”--Milton's third nuptials were still fresh in the Glen--“is a maitter for a man's ain deceesion. “As regairds the bookie,” and Posty held its cheap covers between his thumb and forefinger, “ye'ill excuse me. Jamie Soutar gied me a lend o' his _French Revolution_, an' a'm juist warstlin' thro' wi't. A hev 'na muckle time for readin', an' Tammas Carlyle's a stiff body, but his buiks are graund feedin'. Besides”--and now Posty gave the _coup de grace_--“thae re-leegious bookies hae nae logic for an able-bodied man, an' the laist ane ye gied me was louse in doctrine, juist stinkin' wi' Armeenianism.” Posty was understood to hold an impregnable position with the head of his department, and it was boasted in the Glen that he had carried the mails from Drumtochty to Pitscourie--thirteen miles--and back, every day, excluding Sabbaths, for eight-and-twenty years. It was also believed that he had only been late twice, when the Scourie burn carried away the bridge, and Posty had to go four miles up stream to find a crossing-place, and the day when he struck his head against a stone, negotiating a drift, and lay insensible for three hours. At five o'clock to a minute Posty appeared every morning in the village shop, which had accumulated during the night a blended fragrance of tea and sugar, and candles and Mac-dougall's sheep dip, and where Mrs. Robb, our postmistress, received Posty in a negligent undress sanctioned by official business and a spotless widowhood.