288 ON THE TRACK OF THE MAIL-COACH 



old lady preferred to resign her office, and retire from 

 the dangers of a public post into the security of 

 private life. 



When, ten or eleven years ago, the sub-office at a 

 village near Wolverhampton was opened for telegraph 

 business, the sub-postmaster, who was nearl}^ seventy 

 years of age, could not realize the fact that words 

 could be signalled over the wire, and for three nights 

 in succession he walked, after eight p.m., to the head- 

 office, where the village telegrams had to be repeated 

 — five miles there and back — to compare the telegrams 

 he had dealt with during the day with the head-office 

 copies. 



Not so painstaking was the sub-postmaster in a 

 certain town I know very well. The telegraph had just 

 been extended to his shop, and, all inexperienced, he 

 sent the first message to the head-office. Because of 

 mdistinct signalling, the receiving clerk required 

 several words to be repeated. The sub-postmaster, 

 not understanding the situation, became impatient, 

 and at last, unable to control himself longer, he tore 

 the line wire off the instrument, and to cool down 

 went out for a walk. 



A few years ago, at Preston, a North-Country 

 cattle-dealer handed in a telegram, the address of 

 which was written clearly enough, but its text con- 

 sisted simply of eight strokes. The counter clerk 

 asked if the strokes were intended for figures. The 

 sender replied : ' Call them figures, or whatever you 

 like, so that they come out the same at the other end. 



