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

“Postmaster. Do you know how old I am? “I. No; are you seventy-five? “Postmaster. Seventy-five! I'm as old as Mr. Gladstone. Don't look it, don't I? No, I mayn't look it, but I am. I've been postmaster here for fifty years or more. Yes, I ain't so young as I have-a-been. Good-day, sir. “I. But I want a letter registered. “Postmaster. Registered! Well, I hardly know how. You see, I'm an old man now. Oh yes! I've registered 'em in my day, but I don't somehow like the responsibility. No, I don't feel as if at my age I ought to take the responsibility. You see I've been postmaster here man and boy for.... “In the end I had to take the letter home again.” There is one thing which you will rarely obtain in a rural post office, and that is incivility. This as a rule is associated with “the business-like promptitude of the young men and maidens in town offices,” and the country postmaster's manners are often superior to his intelligence. The smaller the place, the more limited, of course, is the field of selection by the authorities. Let me give one or two specimens of the applications for appointment which are received. “DEAR SIR,— I see you have two vacancies for two sub-postmasters, and I feel I should very much like to become one. Would you kindly let me know where they are situated and what money is allowed. I have money and I have brains, and I pride myself as being straightforward, honest, and true, with purity of soul, simplicity of mind, and honesty of purpose.”