the expenses of rent, taxes, clerk's stipend, wax, string, stationery, &c., the result of which is to compel him to draw from a private source to the extent of about thirty or forty pounds a year. No wonder that the good man is frequently disheartened, and wishes himself out of it. Prior to the last three years an additional penny was charged on all letters and newspapers delivered to those persons whose habitations were in that part of St. Mary-in-the-Castle described as "off the stones," i.e., westward of Government House; but, as stated in the anniversary rhymes of the Gazette,
"Ere Eighteen-thirty-six, the first of May,
A penny extra people used to pay
Who at St. Mary's-in-the-Castle lived
For every letter though the post received.
Our M.P. Elphinstone then made a set,
With help of Eardley Wilmot, Baronet,
To get the impost off, and with success,
For which, of course, the people them would bless."
This, of itself, was quite a right thing to be done, but it was neither honest nor honourable of the Government to engage a Postmaster at a mere nominal salary upon the pretext of equivalent emoluments being attached to the office, and then to remove those emoluments one by one, whilst the duties were increasing, without acceding to a repeated prayer for compensation. As I proceed, I shall have occasion to show other inconsistencies, and - to say the least - questionable practices, of the Post-office directorate towards the subalterns whose duties were always of a responsible, and frequently onerous, character. Take the following, to wit :- A gentleman of upstart mien calls at the office and asks a number of questions, some of which are civilly replied to, and others are beyond the Postmaster’s province to answer. The gentleman (?) then, in the most abrupt manner exclaims "I wish you to remember, sir, that you are the servant of the public sir, and are bound sir, to afford all the information about the Post-office that is in your power!" The reader will not be surprised that such a brusque reminder provoked the following retort:- "Yes, sir, I am aware that I am a servant of the Public, but I wish to remind you also what a many-headed monster my master is." But I am getting before my wicket; that is to say, the little wicket, a foot square, by means of which communication is held with the people outside. Here, for a time, the footpath is completely blocked in front of the Post-office, and partly so is the road, yet no one seems to complain of it. There is a little pushing sometimes to be first; but, as a rule, the applicants are respectful in demeanour, if not always superior in education. One young man wants "Sophy's letter that mother couldn't pay for yesterday when the man brought it," and another asks "Please is there any letters for Mr. Blank, Esq.?" A third, somewhat brusquely shouts "Anything for the Guv'ner?" And a fourth person - a poor woman from Fairlight - "Will be very much obleeged to ye, sir, if you'll kip my letter till Saturday night, when my husband takes his wages." All these any many others are dealt with in rapid succession, and some ten or fifteen minutes suffice to clear away the temporary obstruction to traffic. The Postmaster next passes through his hands whatsoever letters remain in the coves to see if any have accidentally got there that are not addressed "Post Office," or "Post restante," which in either case means that they are to be left till called for. But even with the latter a daily attention to dates is required that the rule may not be infringed of sending them, if uncalled-for, to the Dead-letter office either before or after the expiration of a month. Some of these letters are known to contain money, and the responsibility of having charge of them, perhaps for two or three weeks, is felt to be no light matter, for even if thieves should not break through and steal there is the harassing thought of some accidental chance of disappearance. Some of the letters so addressed are not called for until the lapse of days or weeks, and some are not called for at all. I remember more than one instance of Mr. Woods, in the exuberance of his desire not to withhold letters directed "Post-office" from townspeople whose names exactly corresponded, sending such letters to parties for whom he imagined they were intended, with a caution not to open them unless they thought they knew the hand-writing. In a few cases the obliging act, although not in accordance with instructions, was justified by results, but on one occasion it was feared that my over-zealous employer stood the same chance of dismissal from the service as did a predecessor, the latter for giving back a letter to its writer. In this case the letter was addressed "Mr. George Bennett, Post-office, Hastings," and had remained a fortnight in the office, uncalled for. Now, as in practice it was found that letter-writers when not knowing the residence of parties, sometimes addressed "Post-office, Hastings," instead of "Hastings" only, Mr. Woods surmised that this particular letter was intended for Mr. George Bennett, of 41 High street, and he therefore sent it to him, with the usual proviso. Let me say, parenthetically, that Mr. Bennett was a draper on the premises now occupied by Mr. Ashenden, and where for many years previous to Mr. Bennett's occupation a similar business was carried on by Mr. Cossum, who is mentioned in an early chapter of this history as supplying clothing to the sparse population of pre-historic St. Leonards. But about the letter! It was found not to be for draper Bennett, and the opener had therefore to re-seal if, and to write upon it "Opened by me but not for me." Whilst this was being done, the real addressee of the letter called at the office, and in a moment of perplexity he was told that there did not appear to be a letter in the fixtures with his name on it. He left his address as "Castle hotel," and appeared to go away disappointed. On the letter being returned from High street I was despatched with all haste to the Castle Hotel in quest of the rightful Mr. George Bennett, with instructions to make a respectful apology, and to explain all the circumstances of the case. I shall never forget the flood of anger which I there and then encountered. I was told that the whole transaction was an unparalleled dereliction of duty, and that when the authorities at the General Post-office were acquainted with the facts - which they soon should be - the ignoramus of a Postmaster at Hastings would get his discharge. I could not hear this epithet used against a man whose only fault was a too sincere desire to serve the public, without making an earnest appeal on his behalf; and it was a source of unexpected joy to me when at length the apparent obdurate heart of the offended gentleman melted into compassion as he uttered the words, "For your own sake, and for your devotion to your master I will overlook the mistake this time, but be you very careful for the future."
Having ascertained that the letters withheld from delivery consist only of those which are intended to be called for, together with a few "straw-yards," whose superscriptions are so illegible as to require a council of experts to dicipher (sic) them, the postmaster next proceeds to post up his accounts, whilst his assistant employs himself in preparing for the inspection of all whom it may concern a stock of inlaid articles known as Tunbridge Ware. It will be remembered that I mentioned the insufficiency of the postmaster's salary and the curtailment of his perquisites, thus compelling him to draw largely upon his own private fund to meet the expenses of the establishment. He had tried to improve his position by booking passengers and parcels for one of the coaches, for which he was allowed 1s. each on the former and 2d. on the latter. Fashion and commerce were, however, going westward, and in that direction it was necessary to establish other booking-offices; so that the postmaster's income from that source gradually decreased until the time came when it was deemed advisable to relinquish it altogether. But what was the man to do? He could not get an increase of salary, and he could not live solely upon his stipend with its reduced emoluments. He would open a small shop in connection with his office were it not that his conscientious scruples revolted against the idea of entering into commercial competition with those to whom he felt some sort of allegiance or deference as a public servant. Seeing how strong was this delicacy of feeling - a punctiliousness, by-the-bye, not since shown by the promoters of Civil-service stores - I suggested that as there was no shop in town where Tunbridge-ware could be obtained, a business of that sort would not only not clash with the interests of other tradesmen, but would probably be a convenience to the public. I was complimented for the suggestion, and was soon after privileged to go to Tunbridge Wells to make preliminary arrangements. Here I felt deeply interested in the several processes of manufacture which were shown and explained to me. But to conclude this part of my story, suffice it to say that the necessary alteration of premises being made, the stock was purchased, and an unsolicited £5 per annum was added to my own salary. You will understand therefore - for I am supposed to be still speaking to my friends who are having a day at the post-office - why, after my official work from 4.15 to about 9 a.m., I am found devoting a leisure hour to the new business.
Eleven o'clock arrives, and the postmaster goes out for a "constitutional" to Mr. Buchanan's Nursery in the Old London road, calling at the Bank in High street, and one or two other places on the way. During his absence I am left in sole charge of the office and shop; now answering an enquiry, now serving a customer with some pretty inlaid article, now taking the letters from the box to stamp and tax them, and now attending to the instructions or complaints of some fussy individual or supercilious personage. Of the latter I here give an example. A nobleman who comes periodically to a residence at Breed's place, and to whom I will give the name of Lord Son-of-King, is one of our most imperious and exacting visitors. He calls daily at the office, and in the most commanding matter desires to know if there are any letters for him. If answered in the negative, he insists upon our making a second search - not only in the compartment where letters would be placed to await his calling, but also in the other alphabetic divisions, to make sure, as he would say, that they had not been "put in the wrong box." I had more than once pledged myself to prove to this imperious Lord that there was at least one person connected with Her Majesty's postal service who was no obsequious lackey. I could be sufficiently respectful and attentive to gain the goodwill of a gentleman like Mr. Thomas Morris, to whom I alluded in a previous chapter, but I could also display my then democratic leanings whenever a suitable opportunity was forced upon me. Well, as you already know, I am left in charge of the office, and here comes my Lord Son-of-King, who with his usual bluster asks, "Anything for me?" The quiet answer is "No, sir!" Such an answer to a Lord is enough, perhaps, to ruffle the temper of a less arbitrary nobleman than the one in question, and hence some further snarly questions are put, to which responses are made,both in the following form.
"No, Sir! What do you mean by no, sir?"
"I mean, sir, that there are no letters for you."
"Do you know who I am?"
"Yes, sir, Lord Son-of-King."
"Then why do you say no, sir?"
"Because, sir, I acknowledge but one Lord, the Lord of Heaven and Earth."
"You are an infernal booby!"
"Thank you, sir!"
My Lord Son-of-King then takes himself off, and although still exhibiting a somewhat savage demeanour on subsequent visits, he takes his "No, sir" or "yes, sir," without further parley, and thus tacitly acknowledges the salutary rebuke. My next encounter is with a lady, who comes to complain in indignant terms of what she calls the imposition of the postman in charging her for a double letter, which is only a single one. "Look," she says, "he has had the impertinent dishonesty to erase the original figure and to write another." I immediately exonerate the postman from the charge by telling her that the act is my own, and to convince her that there is no dishonesty in the matter, I show her the debit entry against the postmaster. I then ask her to come in and sign a declaration to the effect that the letter in question consists of only one piece of paper and that it contains "no coin, note, or other article, whatsoever." "Oh!" exclaims the lady, "there was nothing but a couple of five-pound notes in it, and of course that doesn't mean a double letter." You are quite right, madam, is the reply, it certainly does not constitute a double letter, but a treble letter; and, with this admission on your part, it is my strict duty to again erase the figure, replace it by another, and demand the additional amount. The lady is, however, too quick for me, for she snatches up the letter and makes her exit.
It is now about noon, and the letter-carriers are returning from their rounds and bringing their money or its equivalent in "unsold" letters. They are then asked to do their best to decipher the curious orthography or other obscure features in the names and addresses of letters nicknamed "strawyards," which have been laid out for that purpose. Sometimes these efforts are successful and sometimes not, but a clue is frequently obtained though questions put to the letter-carriers by members of poor or illiterate families who happen to be expecting a letter from some absent relation. I am thus reminded of an incident which occurred during the service of postman Lamb, and one which has many times been a source of amusement when described as only he himself could do it It was something like this: - A fisherboy at the East Well shouts after the postman at the top of his voice - "Muster Lamb! Muster Lamb! I say you ol' Muster Lamb! Have you got e'er a folentine for our Sal?” "No, I haven't any valentines now." "Oh! 'cause mother said you had, and she wouldn't take it in, and our Sal wants it." Another amusing incident occurred during the service of postman Cruttenden. This man's delivery commenced at Pelham cottage, and embraced Pelham place, Pelham crescent, Castle street, Wellington square, Castledown house, Russell street, York buildings, Pelham street and Denmark place. The route then lay across the "desert" to White-rock place thence up to Cuckoo hill and down to the Priory farm. In one of these daily rounds Mr. Cruttenden appeared to have imbibed something which made him exceptionally astute, so that on his return to the office he declared, with considerable emphasis, that among the row of letters with doubtful addresses there was one "as clear as mud." "Yes! (said he) It's as plain as a pike-staff," and then, with a knowing nod, a forward plunge, and a sledge-hammer sort of thump upon the board, he continued, "That's Mistress William Smith, Esq., and nobody else." Yet notwithstanding that Cruttenden gave this assurance as a man of letters, Mrs. William Smith, Esq., was never found, and so in course of time her letter, as a rare specimen of caligraphy, (sic) was sent to the Dead-letter office. It is now time to clear the box and prepare for their destination such letters and papers as have already been posted. I am engaged in this work when I am saluted by Mr. Southall, the St. Leonards postmaster, with "Holloa, midshipman! Where's Woods?" ... "Bother the fellow, he is always gone to the Bank or somewhere else when I come! Tell him I have had another blowing-up from head-quarters about a missing letter which I know nothing about, and which I mean to tell them in pretty plain terms. It won't do for them to try it on with me as they do with you at Hastings." Unfortunately for Mr. Southall's consistency, but luckily for the retention of his post as postmaster, his threat is not carried into effect. At a later period of the day his assistant (Edward Pierce) brings a letter from him addressed to the Assistant-Secretary, General Post-office, couched in the most humble and submissive terms, promising that all possible enquiry shall be made respecting the missing letter, notwithstanding that it is almost a foregone conclusion that such letter has not reached the St. Leonards office. Mr. Woods is asked for his opinion upon the suitability of this reply, and of course approves of it, at the same time smiling at the difference between the threat and the performance.
Half-past twelve has arrived, and so has Mr. Gibbs, the driver and contractor of the East-coast Mail. The bags from Dover, Folkestone, Sandgate, Hythe, Romney, and Rye are immediately emptied of their contents and arranged for delivery. Dinner is then partaken of amid sundry interruptions, and the "Penny-post" to St. Leonards is despatched. The bag so made up contains the strictly local communications, the letters from the East coast, and those which came by the morning mail misdirected "Hastings" or "St. Leonards, Hastings," instead of St. Leonards-on-sea. There is one important exception, however, and this applies to the letters addressed to Mr. Troup, the founder of Warrior square. I have already described in chapter CII. Mr. Troup's unbending will to have that district called Hastings, and his boast that before he had done with the queston (sic) he would compel the Post-office authorities to deliver his letters from Hastings. I have also shown how Mr. Troup was foiled in his resolve, and how, instead of having his letters delivered from St. Leonards, as he might have done, he had to come or send twice-a-day to Hastings, for them. This is the gentleman who usually calls for his second daily budget while we are at dinner; and if it were possible for the local officials either to help or hinder his designs, one would suppose that he had sufficient acumen to see that the less he contributed to make "a hungry man an angry man," the better it would be for his cause. By two o'clock, however, the midday meal has been despatched, and so has the outward East-coast mail, although not exactly in the same manner. There should now be a few hours of comparative quiet, the attention of the postmaster and post-clerk being leisurely given to occasional applicants at the office-window or the shop-counter, the intervals being filled up with reading, knitting, netting, and tailoring. But it happens that this usually quiet period is, to-day, disturbed by the sudden arrival of ship-letters. A number of bags and boxes are brought ashore by some Ramsgate pilots from a ship sailing up Channel, and these pilots are desirous of being paid the usual sum of one penny for each letter and one half-penny for each newspaper which the mail-bags and boxes contain. Our instructions are to count and stamp all "India-letters" or "ship-letters" that may be landed, and to pay the masters of vessels for the same if there be time, but on no account to open the parcels if such process necessitates the detention of the inland mail at night. The postmaster, fearing this will be the case, suggests that the pilots shall leave their address, to be forwarded to Londond, and from thence receive the sum of money which may be found to be their due. As the suggestion does not meet with acquiescence, I am desired to run this way and that way in all haste to fetch the letter-carriers to assist in the work of counting and stamping. My self-confidence crops up again with the averment that the whole work can be done, single-handed and that a good moiety of it can be got through in the time other -
