120 ON THE TRACK OF THE MAIL-COACH 



21i hours, and at Falmouth in twenty-nine hours 

 from the General Post-Office. This was a feat to be 

 proud of. 



I think it was at Devonport in the late fifties that a 

 story was told of an assistant in the post-office, whom 

 I wdll call Miss Bridget B. She was quite an original 

 character, and was rather hostile to feminine cus- 

 tomers. 



In the rotunda leading to the counter at the Devon- 

 port post-of&ce, a small pane of glass commanded a 

 full view of the interior, and it was not at all un- 

 common for young women who wished to buy stamps 

 or take out a money order, before venturing within, 

 to peep through the glass pane. If the coast was 

 clear, they would be heard to say : ' She is not there 

 now\ We will go in.' Sometimes when they did get 

 to the counter the lady had returned to her post, from 

 which she kept a watchful eye on any attempt to 

 approach one of the young men in attendance. 



All the same, if Bridget, who had a soft heart under 

 a harsh exterior, was rather obnoxious to the one sex, 

 she was a favourite with the other. 



One day my colleague was entirely disconcerted. 

 She had admonished one of the stampers for some 

 misdoing, when the reproved official tartly rejoined, 

 ' Well, at all events, I never set the office on fire.' 

 It seems that ' Sister ' (her pet name amongst the 

 staff) had a drawer distant from any gas-jet, where 

 she kept a small mirror, a hair-brush, etc., and a 

 piece of candle. In the absence of a candlestick. 



