The post office and its story an interesting account of the activities of a great government department

“All our transactions with the General Post Office have been straight and above-board so far,” wrote the secretary of a society, thus holding out grim possibilities of what might be expected in the future. “Any member who has a complaint can give it to the under-mentioned gentlemen who were elected at the committee.” So runs a rule of a working man's sick club, and it seems to me a far simpler plan than sending for the doctor. “Help one another Infectious Diseases Club,” is the pleasant name of another society. But perhaps the most human documents of all are to be found in the correspondence relating to the claims of deceased depositors' representatives. In hundreds of cases there are to be found tragedy and comedy, and glimpses of what the struggle of life means to the working populations. All accounts under £100 of deceased depositors who have left no will have to be distributed by the Postmaster-General under the Statutes of Distribution, and a difficult matter this is sometimes in the case of large families. Payment of these small sums is also made on production of a will, and these documents are often pathetic as well as amusing. Here is one: “I leave everything to my wife. I did not know it was wrong to sell those hens. I will be a teetotaller as near as possible. I have said things which had no meaning.” This was evidently written when the man was seriously ill, and we seem to understand at once his own little weaknesses as well as the trials of his wife. One likes especially the way he hedges about the drink question: there is evidently a chance of his recovery from the illness.