It is a press letter.

These bureaucrats say that they dare not send it by a horse express; I appeal to you, as I am sure you are a man of expedients." "These people," he replied, scowling at the clerks, "are demoralised.

They are the ancient valets of a corrupt Court; give me your letter; if possible it shall go, 'foi de citoyen.'" I handed my letter to Jefferson, but whether it is on its way to England, or still in his patriotic hands, I do not know.

As I passed out through the courtyard I saw postmen seated on the boxes of carts, with no horses before them.

It was their hour to carry out the letters, and thus mechanically they fulfilled their duty.