A postman is surely the last occupation we should think of for a lame man, but there have been several instances where a man with crutches has performed his daily duties willingly and excellently. An official sent out to test a man's ability to do his work—the postman walked 17 miles on crutches—found himself quite outpaced by the lame official. A rural postman who had a wooden leg made use of a donkey and cart, but it was found out after his resignation that finding a difficulty in getting in and out of his cart he carried with him a tin bucket full of large stones. These he hurled at the front door when occasion demanded. An original postman's knock. Certainly this was another resourceful postman. A rural postman of Newport who has recently retired from the Service gave notice of approach in this fashion. He could whistle by the aid of his fingers in such a way as to make himself heard from parish to parish. And he carried an umbrella which it was said would shelter a village population nicely. Wherever he may be, in northern latitudes, in the tropics, or in the town and country districts of the United Kingdom, the postman carries about with him the proud consciousness that he is “On his Majesty's Service.” Everything must give way before him. Even when on occasions the streets of London are blocked to everybody else, to allow a royal procession or a Lord Mayor's Show to pass, the policeman makes room for the postman. These are perhaps the proudest moments of a postman's life, provided always he is indifferent to the doubtful compliments of the London crowd. CHAPTER XXIII THE POST OFFICE GUIDE It is wonderful how persistent are certain prejudices in the minds of the British public. With vast numbers of people it is an accepted fact that Bradshaw is unintelligible, and a book only for experts in travel. The A B C, with its delightful appeal in the title to the simple-minded, was brought out to meet the needs of such people, but to anybody who has grasped one or two elementary facts concerning our railway system there is no doubt whatever which is the more interesting volume. Bradshaw will trace for you the whole of your journey, the places you pass, the stations you stop at, and the junctions at which you may have to change. Indeed a love of Bradshaw for its own sake often develops in the mind of a man who can travel in imagination, and we have all probably known instances of delightful folk, almost entirely of one sex, who can amuse themselves by the hour over the study of time-tables.