THE CORNISH MAIL 125 



conducted class than the postmen of the United 

 Kingdom, but here and there an exception may be 

 found. 



In Derbyshire a postmaster of my acquaintance 

 had reason to suspect the habits of a postman ^Yho 

 drove a mounted post. ' I will survey your round 

 to-morrow, Harrison,' said the postmaster. ' All 

 right, sir; I'll be ready at a quarter to six.' The 

 morning came, the chaise was brought, and master 

 and man started off. 



' The pony goes well enough, Harrison ; I will hold 

 the whip.' Presently, as by custom, the steed, un- 

 checked by lash, stopped at the Saracen's Head. 

 After a great deal of urging, a fresh start was made, 

 only to precede a second unauthorized halt a mile 

 further on, at the Blue Boar. In short, there were 

 four such points at which the pony was daily accus- 

 tomed to halt and the thirsty postman to take morn- 

 ing draughts. 



Seeing that I have (superfluously enough) testified 

 to the postal merits of horses, I must go out of my 

 way, as an act of bare justice, to refer to the services 

 rendered to the department by another member of 

 the quadrupedal family, viz.. Jack, the wire-haired 

 terrier, whose home was for many years in the New 

 Bath Hotel at Matlock Bath, in Derbyshire. 



This remarkable and most intelligent dog I am told 

 has already been praised in print by a popular writer ; 

 but I draw my facts this very day fresh from the Bath 

 itself. Jack never failed to meet visitors on their 



