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318
The Royal Mail: Its Curiosities and Romance
·
James Wilson Hyde
286
"The
newspaper
window,
ever
yawning
for
more,
is
presently
surrounded
and
besieged
by
an
array
of
boys
of
all
ages
and
costumes,
together
with
children
of
a
larger
growth,
who
are
all
alike
pushing,
heaving,
and
surging
in
one
great
mass.
The
window,
with
tremendous
gape,
is
assaulted
with
showers
of
papers,
which
fly
thicker
and
faster
than
the
driven
snow.
Now
it
is,
that
small
boys
of
eleven
and
twelve
years
of
age,
panting
Sinbad-like
under
the
weight
of
huge
bundles
of
newspapers,
manage
somehow
to
dart
about
and
make
rapid
sorties
into
other
ranks
of
boys,
utterly
disregarding
the
cries
of
the
official
policemen,
who
vainly
endeavour
to
reduce
the
tumult
into
something
like
post-office
order.
If
the
lads
cannot
quietly
and
easily
disembogue,
they
will
whizz
their
missiles
of
intelligence
over
other
people's
heads,
now
and
then
sweeping
off
hats
and
caps
with
the
force
of
shot.
The
gathering
every
moment
increases
in
number,
and
intensifies
in
purpose;
arms,
legs,
sacks,
baskets,
heads,
bundles,
and
woollen
comforters--for
who
ever
saw
a
veritable
newspaper
boy
without
that
appendage?--seem
to
be
getting
into
a
state
of
confusion
and
disagreeable
communism,
and
yet
'the
cry
is
still,
they
come.'
Heaps
of
papers
of
widely
opposed
political
views
are
thrown
in
together--no
longer
placed
carefully
in
the
openings;
they
are
now
sent
in
in
sackfuls
and
basketfuls,
while
over
the
heads
of
the
surging
crowd
were
flying
back
the
empty
sacks,
thrown
out
of
the
office
by
the
porters
inside.
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