Before they could say anything, however, a vehicle drove up to the door, and a man getting out came into the room.

He had a glazed hat on his head, and was dressed something like the guard of a mail.

He touched his hat to me, and called for a glass of whiskey.

I gave him the sele of the evening and entered into conversation with him in English.
In the course of discourse I learned that he was the postman, and was going his rounds in his cart--he was more than respectful to me, he was fawning and sycophantic.

The whiskey was brought, and he stood with the glass in his hand.