On some routes the guards of the motors have been employed for many years. These men seem to have inherited the superstitions common to the old postboys. On one of the roads out of London the following story is implicitly believed. A mail van travelling one night knocked down an old man with a long white beard, seriously injuring him. As the coach was fully loaded with the mails, there was no room for the injured man, so he was carefully laid by the roadside out of harm's way and the coach hastened away for assistance. Returning in a very short time to the spot, the old man was nowhere to be found, although there were traces of blood round about. He was never heard of again. At the same spot two drivers, neither of whom had heard of the previous occurrence, pulled up their coaches under the firm conviction that they had knocked down an old man with a long white beard. No trace could be found of the individual, nor anything which would explain the strange circumstance. The drivers, however, stick to their stories, and they tell them to you with the evident conviction that there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your sceptical philosophy. Anyhow, it is a relief to think that the motors have not driven away the supernatural from the roads. The spirits are there still, and though men drive motors instead of horses, they see ghosts just in the same old way as their fathers. Motor men have not yet established a character of their own, as was the case with the coach-drivers. There was, years ago, a mail contractor and wagoner who was stated to be worth £100,000, but he always dressed in a white smock frock. He bore the delightful name of Jolly. One winter there was a great deal of snow, and Mr. Jolly thought he ought to be paid extra for the additional work, but the Department would not hear of it. So he memorialised the Postmaster-General in a very unconventional manner, but characteristic of his profession. “MY LORD,—I, John Jolly, of ——, have conveyed her Majesty's mails over hedges, ditches, and stone walls, and I, John Jolly, have never been properly paid for the same.” (Here it is thought he lost his temper and his limited vocabulary of decent words.) “And I, John Jolly, will see the Postmaster-General damned before I, John Jolly, do it again.” Many Post Office memorialists probably mean this when they approach the Postmaster-General as “obedient servants,” but they have not been trained on the road. CHAPTER VIII THE UNDELIVERED POSTAL PACKET