The post office and its story an interesting account of the activities of a great government department

Some time ago a motor mail van was coasting down a Kentish hill on a dark night, and at a bend of the road, the bright lights of the motor revealed a dark object lying right across the roadway. The powerful brakes were quickly applied, and the vehicle was pulled up just in time to avoid an accident. The obstacle was a railway sleeper, which had apparently been placed there by some miscreant with the idea of wrecking the mail. Several men were seen disappearing across the fields skirting the road when the motor stopped. On another night a shot was fired at the same motor coach, only narrowly missing the driver, for the bullet passed through the glass window at his side. Both outrages are supposed to have been the work of the same persons, who had some grievance against the motor. They were perhaps making a last stand on behalf of their friends the horses. Country folk are conservative above all other people. The horse and cart is to them almost the divinely appointed means of transit, and to attempt to overthrow it is sacrilege. All other forms of locomotion are distasteful to the true countryman. “How did you like foreign parts?” asked a Kentish farmer of his labourer, who had been across to Boulogne. “Furrin parts was all right,” replied the labourer, “but that boat! Give me 'orse and cart, sir.” One night a motor mail driver suddenly pulled up at what appeared to be an ordinary walking-stick lying across the road. On approaching nearer, to the consternation of the driver it glided rapidly away. The guard simply said “Snakes,” and this was the explanation.