"The horse-post rode from stage to stage, changing his steed at the appointed resting-places. As he galloped along over the ill-cultivated and sparsely-populated country-side, he from time to time waked the echoes of the lonely wastes with a brave flourish on his horn, warning the inhabitants of his coming. Eagerly, far and wide, did they strain their ears to catch that welcome blast, and, having heard it, from grange and farmstead and hovel, moved by common emotions, gentle and simple streamed to cross-roads and wayside hostelry, hopeful that the courier would not send them away with empty hands. When communication was beset with so many difficulties and dangers, months and even years sometimes elapsed without tidings coming from the wanderer to those he had left behind. Fond hopes that over and over again had been disappointed revived as the postman's horn rang over hill and dale, penetrating to the great heart of the castle hall and to the cheerless hovel, where site or dame, or wife or sweetheart, cherished the image of some dear one battling for fame at the palisades, or for wealth on distant seas.
"The despatch of letters to-day is an automatic affair. The machine is human, but it is a machine none the less. But in the seventeenth century every step exacted intelligence and resource. The postal system depended, too, for its success upon the honesty and goodwill and energy of an immense number of people who were independent, almost entirely, of anything in the nature of supervision. If one desired to send a letter to some remote town in Yorkshire, one went to Ludgate, then to the Bell Savage Inn close by, and there entrusted it to the carrier for the county in question. Or going to St John Street and there entering the Rose and Crown, one found regular post for that shire. The messenger from London would not penetrate into by-ways. Each county had its system of foot-posts, which linked the outlying dis-
