PETERSFIELD.
THE LATE SNOW.—An old and weather-beaten mailman, John Nash, who for 17 years has conveyed her majesty’s mails to Fareham, from Liphook, through this town and back, till the late postal alterations, making, per night, 54 miles, was a little after midnight on Saturday last, with a down mail to Cosham, blocked up in a snow drift. Upon starting from the post office here about half-past ten o’clock, he proceeded on his way with a man and horse, as leader, through the snow storm till he reached Gravel Hill, where the horses and cart came to a dead lock in the snow, which rendered it impossible for the two men to extricate their horses for an hour and a half. At this time the landlord (Welch) of the Coach and Horses, at the bottom of the hill, came along the road from an opposite direction, who also became firmly fixed in the snow, where he was compelled to leave his cart, and after a great dint of great exertion, made his way to the lights of the mail cart, burning in the distance, and joined his snow bound fellow travellers. In spite of the intense cold, the junction of the three gave fresh vigour, and the horses were, after great difficulty, extricated, not, however, before the mail horse had plunged through his harness. Our nearly frozen up mailman (between three score and ten), was then mounted upon the landlord’s horse, and the party returned down to the ‟old hostelrie,” where, luckily, the landlady was waiting with a good fire the return of her husband from his journey, which, with the warmth of the room and the necessary creature comforts, the spirits of the party were revived, and their chilled blood again obtained its wonted circulation. At early morn men were employed in digging a way through the snow, when the mail again proceeded upon its destination, and returned to this town on Sunday afternoon at 1ֺ‧30, instead of 4 a.m.