“We had left Gloucester,” he says, “and all went on pretty well until we came to Radnor Forest, where we got caught in such a snowstorm that it was impossible to take the coach any farther, so we left it. I took the mail-bags, and with the assistance of two shepherds made my way over the mountains. It took us five hours to get to the other side, to an inn at Llandewy. There we met the up-guard, Couldery, who took my guides back again. It was not many hours before the abandoned coach was completely covered with snow, and there it remained buried for a week. Well, Couldery, it seems, fell down in the snow from exhaustion, and had to be carried by the two shepherds to the ‘Forest’ inn, on the other side of the mountain, and there he remained for some days, to recover. I had to proceed with my bags, so I got a chaise and pair from Pen-y-Bont and another at Rhayader, but was unable to take that very far owing to the snow. There was nothing for it but to press on again on foot, which I did for many miles, until I came to Llangerrig. There I found it was hopeless to think of going over Plinlimmon, and was informed that nothing had crossed all day; so I made up my mind to go round by way of Llanidloes, and a night I had of it! I was almost tired out and benumbed with cold, which brought on a drowsiness I found it very hard to resist. If I had yielded to the feeling for one instant I should not be telling these tales now. When I got about eight miles from Aberystwith I found myself becoming thoroughly exhausted, so I hired a car for the remainder of the journey, and fell fast asleep as soon as I got into it. On arriving I was still fast asleep, and had to be carried to bed and a doctor sent for, who rubbed me for hours before he could get my blood into circulation again. I had then been exposed to that terrible weather for fifty hours. Next day I felt a good deal better, and started back for Gloucester, but had great difficulty in getting over the mountain. I had the honour of receiving a letter from the Postmaster-General complimenting me on my zeal and energy in getting the mail over the mountain. Even when there was no snow; the wind on the top of Plinlimmon was often almost more than we could contend with. Once, indeed, it was so strong that it blew the coach completely over against a rock; but we soon got that right again, and always afterwards took the precaution of opening both the doors and tying them back, so that the wind might pass through the coach.”
STUCK FAST. After C. Cooper Henderson, 1843.
On another occasion Nobbs and the mail escaped in a miraculous manner. The snow had been falling for many hours on Plinlimmon, and it was a fearful night. They safely passed the summit at Stedfa-gerrig, but, after going down for a mile, lost their way in a dense combined fog and snowstorm. A postboy was riding one of the leaders, but he took the coach over a precipice about sixty feet deep, and Nobbs and the coachman performed two somersaults in the involuntary descent. When they reached the bottom they blessed that same snowstorm which they had been regarding in quite another light, for the drifts made a soft and safe resting-place. There were only two passengers, who were, of course, riding inside on such a night. They were greatly cut by the breaking of the glass, and two horses were killed. But in two hours the coach was righted, and, having found an old Roman road in the hollow and harnessed the two remaining horses, they drove off, and actually succeeded in reaching Cheltenham in time to catch the up London mail.
When the Cheltenham and Aberystwith Mail came off the road, in 1854, Nobbs was appointed travelling inspector to the Post Office on the Great Western Railway between Paddington and Exeter, and was shortly afterwards transferred to Paddington, where he remained for the rest of his official career, superintending the receipt and despatch of the mails until retired and pensioned off in 1891, under the Post Office regulations. He had thus performed fifty-five years’ service, and had seen the business of the Post Office grow from the one hundredweight of mail-matter in his charge on the Cheltenham and Aberystwith Mail at Christmas 1839, to the twenty tons despatched from Paddington on Christmas Eve 1889.
A very curious experience fell to the lot of this veteran in 1887, when a revival of the old days of the road took place, in consequence of the Post Office deciding to send the London and Brighton Parcel Mail by horsed van along that classic highway instead of by rail. By the Post Office agreement with the railway companies of 1882, the year when the Parcel Post was introduced, the companies were given 55 per cent. of the total receipts; but as it presently appeared that this was an extravagant proportion, and that the parcels could be conveyed by van along the road at a much smaller cost, the road service now in force was at length inaugurated, on June 1st, 1887.
To Nobbs, as the oldest guard in the service, fell the distinction of acting in that capacity on the Brighton Parcel Mail on its trial-trip. Again he wore the gold-banded hat and the scarlet coat, and sentimental souls not only provided one of the old timepieces, but included a blunderbuss in the equipment, while an even more enthusiastic admirer of the bygone days produced a key-bugle, so that Nobbs might play “Auld Lang Syne.” He tried, but the attempt was not a success. The results were feeble, in consequence, as he explained, of his having lost his front teeth.
Nobbs died, May 18th, 1897, in his eighty-first year, at Uxbridge. His portrait is one of the cherished items in the Post Office Record Department.
One of those who, for some reason or another, was not continued in Post Office employment was an odd character popularly called “Cocky” Murrell, who for many years afterwards was a solicitor’s clerk at Downham Market, Norfolk. “Cocky” he was called from his prodigious amount of bounce. He had formerly been guard of the mail between Ely and King’s Lynn, and though not much taller than the horn he blew, assumed as much authority as though he had been the Postmaster-General himself.