Our good, easy ,old fashioned parishoners have recently canvassed with the object of getting a few introduced, but in vain. Drivers of all sorts, trusting to their own knowledge of the tortuous and winding roads and the their horses' instinct, go about at high speeds and in the most reckless manner. It is the exeption to see one with a light. Meanwhile, as usual, it is the old and infirm, the women and children, who run the greatest risks. Only last week a woman was knocked down, and narrow escapes are of frequent occurrence. If any of your readers love the quaint and antiquated, let them, on the first dark night, take a ticket for Whaley Bridge on the Buxton line; let them grope their way from the main street of the village into the parish of Fernilee. They will not have bruised themselves above once or twice against stone walls before they will be startled by erratic and mysterious will-o'-the-wisp-like glimmerings in the distance. On a nearer approach they will discover worthy natives perambulating in true seventeenth century fashion, with horn lanterns, like philosophers seeking for truth. Hoping these letters may draw the attention of public bodies generally to the matter.
