"_February 6th._--I feel very uneasy at the slow progress made, but, circumstanced as I am, it is impossible to go faster." My moral difficulties found a physical parallel:-- "_February 8th._--Returning to Brighton [where I still continued to live] by the 5 p.m. express train, was stopped by a sudden snow-storm. With two engines we were three and a-half hours in advancing three miles from Three Bridges. We came to a dead stand near to the Balcombe Tunnel; remained there till 1 a.m., unable to proceed or return, when, an engine having arrived, and all the passengers having been crammed into three carriages, we returned to Three Bridges, leaving the remainder of the train in the snow. Sat up all night at 'The Fox.' Next morning, the line being open to London soon after ten, I returned to town. The other passengers, I found, on my return to Brighton at night, did not complete their journey till 4 p.m. (having been twenty-three hours on the way)." A few days later, being invited by the Guardian Society at Liverpool to a public dinner, I took opportunity, in my speech of thanks, to explain to a certain extent the duties and powers of the Post Office, misapprehension as to which led then, and doubtless leads still, to unprofitable correspondence, withdrawing attention from practical improvements to futile discussion. I found it particularly necessary to show why suggestions, however valuable, cannot be suddenly adopted, since, in so vast and complex a machine as the Post Office, which must not for one hour be arrested in its motion, it is indispensable to make such preliminary examination and complete arrangement as will yield full security that the change will throw nothing out of gear, but work smoothly from the first. I showed that, while some of the improvements called for by my Liverpool friends seemed feasible, others could not be made.