Exeter 171 miles in 17 hours. This Quicksilver Mail was supposed to be the fastest in England; and there were short distances when the horses were spinning over the ground at the rate of fifteen miles a a hour. The annual procession of the mails on the King's birthday was a sight which, while it can never be seen again, will never be forgotten by those who have seen it. George IV., who was born on the 12th of August, changed the annual celebration of his birthday to April 23d. The mail-coaches then went in procession from Millbank to Lombard Street, about twelve o'clock. The horses belonging to the different mails had entirely new harness; the guards and coachmen, postmen and postboys, were all dressed in their new scarlet uniforms. From Lombard Street the cavalcade passed through the principal streets of the metropolis. It was a grand gala-day, and a display such as no other country could ever show – horses, coaches, harness, all of the best, and the coachmen vying with one another to show off the teams to the best advantage. The drivers and guards wore large bouquets of flowers; the coaches were newly painted and emblazoned with the Royal arms.
"In the cramped interior of the vehicles were closely packed buxom dames and blooming lasses, the fair passengers arrayed in coal-scuttle bonnets and in canary-coloured or scarlet silks. ... Heading the procession was the oldest-established mail, which would be the Bristol. On the King's birthday, 1834, there were 27 coaches in the procession. They all wore hammer-cloths. Sherman's mails were drawn by black horses, and on these occasions their harness was of red morocco. Many country squires who were anxious that their best horses should have a few turns in the mail-coaches, sent up their horses to figure in the procession."
– The Royal Mail, pp. 73, 74.
The whole pageant was worthy of the occasion – a celebration of the birthday of its sovereign.
Steam is the one great leveller. In its progress all exceptional excellence disappears. No country could rival England in roads, in horses, and coaches, in the beauty of our ships, and the skill of our seamen. The age of these superiorities has passed for ever. The rail has superseded Macadam; stokers and pokers take the place of coachmen and guards: turret-ships and ironclads have swept away our glorious line-of-battle ships and beautiful frigates; engineers are in demand instead of able seamen. The Continent can produce just as good engineers as our own, whether it be to drive the mails or work in the engine-room. Stokers and pokers belong to every clime; but the smart drivers of her Majesty's mails, and the old salts sung by Dibdin, belong to the historic past, and we are placed on the same level as all nations, with the same monotony of qualifications.
The earliest Postmaster-General and post-agents had not an easy time of it. The mails were so irregular, and the complaints so constant, that the ill-paid duties of the former became very onerous; and the post-agents, especially the packet-agents, in time of war were placed in situations not devoid of danger. The instructions to all the packet-agents, who were practically in command of the boats, were, – "You must run when you can, fight when you can no longer run, and throw the mails overboard when you cannot fight." We must refer our readers for most interesting anecdotes of the mail-packet service to 'The
