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wise consumed in my being sent to distant parts of the town as messenger. The postmaster protests, his assistant importunes, and the two pilot-men encourage. The objection is repeated, and again the irrepressible clerk begs for the opportunity being afforded him - as was done in the case of the regular morning mails - of proving his capable dexterity. The prayer is granted and the work of counting and stamping several thousand letters and papers is accomplished much within the estimated time. The pilots are gratified by the receipt of their money, the postmaster - all honour to his generous nature! - frankly expresses his pleasure at having yielded to persuasion, ad Lord Son--of-King's "infernal booby" of a clerk feels no regret at having blistered his right hand in the stamping process, nor at having sacrificed an hour which he is usually permitted to call his own. If the blistered hand first suggests to him the possibility of people using their right hand too exclusively and subsequently leads to his becoming an ambidexter, the compensation is ample.

The bags and boxes are again filled and re-sealed in readiness for transit to London with the ordinary mail, and it is evident that the coach will not be able to carry much passengers' luggage in addition. Those who horse the coach will not, however, be so hard pressed as on a previous occasion when sea-borne mails were landed at Hastings and when not only were passengers and their luggage excluded altogether but a post-chaise was put upon the ​road​ as well as the coach to convey the immense bulk of letters, papers and despatches. On that occasion, it was not possible to do what has now been done in the way of counting and stamping, and no effort was therefore made in that direction. I may mention that in the present instance the mails are from the Cape of Good Hope and the Mauritius, and that the ship which brings them is the "Elizabeth". And now, having got the glut of ship-letters out of hand, and refreshed ourselves at the tea-table, the ordinary routine of the evening commences. This includes the frequent clearing of the letter-box, the stamping and taxing of letters, and the examination of newspapers. The last-named operation is mostly performed by one of the letter-carriers, who comes in the evening for that work expressly. This is held to be a very important duty, as, on account of the high-rate of letter-postage and the free transmission of newspapers, the senders of the latter frequently make them serve the purpose of the former, either with enclosures or by writing on the margins. In some instances the attempt is quite undisguised, but in the majority of cases the information sought to be conveyed is written with onion juice, "secret ink" or other invisible fluids. In this examination, one of our most expert detectives was William Lamb, the postman to whom I have once or twice referred, but who has now been succeeded by Edward Hide, to whose promotion I have also alluded. In all suspicious cases Lamb would apply a magnifying glass, and when that failed him he would open the newspaper to its fullest extent and hold it before the fire. This dernier resort was invariably successful, the writing appearing in full colour (usually red), and the matter being not unfrequently most amusing. Of course such newspapers are immediately taxed, the price being enormously above the rate of single-letter postage, as in the case of one which you saw me take out of the London bag in the morning. But this is not the only work of the taxing-clerk. Almost every night pieces of money are found lying loose at the bottom of the letter-box, they having escaped from under the seals on the outside of letters in consequence of the breaking of those seals by the letters falling into the receptacle on their edge and bending beneath the weight of other letters or newspapers subsequently posted. This practice of sending money by post - as common as it is imprudent - was referred to by Macauley when, in writing to his nephew, he remarked "The best part of a lady's letter is said to be the postscript, but the best part of an uncle's is under the seal." You ask "What is done with the money in such cases?" Well, I will explain; but first let me see if the present evening is an exceptional one in that respect. No! Here is a half-sovereign, and here is the letter to which it evidently belongs. I now examine the letter externally and internally, so far as I can without opening it to see that it consists of only one piece of paper and contains no enclosure. I next put the letter and coin in an official cover marked "Money Letter," charge it as a double letter, and place it with the others. I then assist the Postmaster in probing the interior folds of all other unpaid letters with the view of discovering if they are anything more than single letters. This combined action detects several "doubles" and one or two "trebles," but on this particular night bank-notes and cheques appear to be absent even in these "multiples." It is a rare occurrence, however, for an evening to pass without the detection of paper money in one or more letters. What a temptation, you will say, to those who have to do with them! Aye! and so it is; and in too many instances I fear, letter-sorters and letter-carriers in different parts of Her Majesty's dominions have acquired a facility, not only in detecting the presence of gold beneath a surface of wax, or notes between the folds of a letter, but also of applying some of such gold or notes to their own use. Let me say, however, to the credit of Mr. Woods and his staff that during my own experience no amount of temptation has been sufficient to make them swerve from a path of rectitude in this respect. But why do the public offer such temptations and run such risks? Money-orders are obtainable, at a comparatively trifling cost, and although such facilities are not so complete as they will be in the future, they afford greater protection than the method just described.

The work of examining, stamping, taxing and sorting still goes on until about fifteen to ten, but just before eight one of the employés goes outside to listen for the striking of the town-clock. at (sic) the first stroke he gives the customary signal at the window, and the letter-box is immediately closed. This is followed almost nightly by lively rappings at the wicket, accompanied by the exclamation, "I can't get my letters in!" Being reminded that there is now a penny on each letter to be paid as after-time money, the exclaimants sometimes assert that they knocked before the clock had ceased striking, and then there usually ensues a contention as to whether it is eight o'clock at the first or at the last sound of the clock-bell. This question had been previously decided by persons higher in authority than ourselves, and as the postmaster is obliged to look more closely than ever to the emoluments which are gradually slipping from his grasp, he acts in this matter strictly upon his instructions. "Well then," it is sometimes conclued (sic), "I dare not take the letters back, so I must pay the pence out of my own money." By this admission we pretty well know that the messenger has been gossiping or otherwise loitering on the way. Sometimes also a tradesman's assistant or errand-boy comes a moment too late, suffused with perspiration and gasping for breath as he exclaims, "Dear me! I thought I should have been soon enough; master said if I could save the pennies I should have half." In most of these cases a wicked fit seizes us, in which we say that we are very sorry, when we mean that we are very glad. As soon as the box closes a man is sent to Castle street, Wellington square and other western districts, with a large bell to collect letters therefrom, together with an extra penny for each, the pence thus collected being a perquisite of the postmaster. As soon as these letters are brought to the office the requisite attention is paid to them, and the bags are sealed in readiness for the mail guard when he comes in at eight minutes to ten. But what about the letters in the shape of parcels which the said guard carries in a private and clandestine manner? Well, that affair shall be explained further on. Suffice it for the present that we now take stock of the letters for which we have not yet found owners balance accounts, eat supper, and retire to rest. When that is all done the time will be near midnight and your humble servant will have completed his nineteen hours of daily labour. You will also be glad to get to bed; for howsoever much you may have been interested in "a day at the Hastings Post-office in 1839, you would not care perhaps to carry your investigation further for the present.

The two amusing incidents connected with "Mrs. William Smith, Esq," and "Our Sal's Volentine" recall other circumstances with which the two letter-carriers, Cruttenden and Lamb, were principally associated. The former had been frequently admonished for not practising the amount of punctuality and sobriety that so responsible a service required, and after many broken pledges of reformation, the Postmaster felt it incumbent on himself to supply Cruttenden's place with a new man. But who was the new man to be? There was Harry Tompsett, the Postmaster's nephew; but would not the public imagine that it was thus contrived to make a berth for a relative? This was the idea that haunted the conscientious Postmaster, and it was only after the objection had been pronounced by his clerk and some other persons to be too heavily weighted with a false delicacy, that the good man could be brought to believe that the Government and the public would acquit him of interested motives. The change was then made; Mr. Tompsett commenced his duties on Valentine's Day, 1839; and the result proved that in the interest of the public Mr. Woods could not have made a better choice. This man faithfully performed his duties for a period of 33 years on full service and 3½ years as an auxiliary; and he was, when he retired on a small and well-earned pension, a wonderfully hale man of 74, or thereabouts. He died an octogenarian. William Lamb, the other postman referred to, left the Post-office in 1838, after a service of about thirteen years, which did not entitle him to any further consideration of the Government. He followed, I believe, several occupations after that, and died in the month of May, 1879, at the ripe age of 82 years. His place in the Post-office was fittingly taken by Mr. Hide, the young man who for 9½ years had traversed the out-bound district, as before described for the small pittance of 5s. per week. His promotion therefore to a post of 14s. per week was justly his due; and here again the Postmaster made a wise choice for the public good. Mr. Hide continued on for another 35 years, thus making his entire service 44½ years, and like his fellow-worker, Mr. Tompsett, was in the receipt of a small annuity. It is a pleasure to be able to record the fact that the long and faithful services of two of my old associates thus received a suitable recognition; and I could have wished that in proportion to his responsibilities, his strict integrity, and his long service, he who was Postmaster for many years, both under the old and new systems, had been better cared for than I fear was the case. How far remunerative was the stipend in his later officials (sic) years is not within my knowledge; but, as before stated, his emoluments during my own term of service were insufficient to live upon after deducting the expenses involved in official requirements. The fixed salary of Mr. Woods was not even enough of itself to cover the amount of rent and taxes; and to remove from an ill-conditioned house, whose only recommendation was its position, was not permitted. The house in question swarmed with rats, mice and beetles; and I have sometimes wondered - knowing the fondness of some of these domestic quadrupeds for paper - that some of the letters were not carried away by them. I had a great aversion to this sort of company, and perhaps it was fear more than bravery which made me their uncompromising enemy. But if I was wanting in genuine courage, I had at least an abundance of self-will, and this served me in good stead when I had once made up my mind to be the mortal foe of a colony of insiduous nocturnalians.(sic) I fought these invaders of the domestic hearth single-handed, and although it may savour of egotism to claim credit for the success of my generalship, the mere fact that I was victorious may palliate the offence, whilst a description of the plan of battle may be useful to others should they ever be drawn into a similar conflict. That I laid a trap for the enemy I hold to be no dishonour, seeing how disproportionate in numbers were the combatants. The first to make their appearance were the beetle troops. These came, at nightfall, several hundred strong, and occupied the entire area of the back kitchen. I could not dislodge them by any ordinary means, so I swept rapidly round them with a long-handled instrument betuffed (sic) with bristles, and forced them into a disordered heap upon their centre. Then with a shorter weapon of a similar character I rolled them over into a receptacle called a dustpan, and although some of them made their escape, I by that means took a large body of them prisoners, and afterwards put them to death. Nothing daunted, their shattered forces returned to the attack nightly until their gradually decreasing numbers dwindled down to all but total nullity. Later in the night a foraging party of mouse-coloured quadrupeds ascended the heights in search of provisions. One of their routes was over a deep gorge known as The Copper, and it was here that I laid a trap for their capture. It consisted of two pieces of laths projecting from the brick-work, with weights upon the inner ends to keep them firm. A wooden platter (a small piece of board would have done as well), pivoted on strong pins, was placed upon the laths in such a manner as to tip over as soon as one or more of the foragers got beyond the centre of the platter in pursuit of the bait on the outer edge. They were thus precipitated into a vessel beneath, where they found a watery grave, whilst the trap resumed its original position in readiness for the next comers. The number thus nightly entrapped was so great that the pantries, safes and cupboards were in a short time freed from depredation. So far, so good! But then came the Heavy Brigade - the rats, and for their destruction my stratagem was also complete. I procured an instrument known as a clam, placed it at the bottom of a shallow pan, and covered it with bran. Not suspecting any foul play, the brigade attacked the bran, when one of their number was usually caught in an iron grip, whilst the others beat a hasty retreat, only to defer their turn for a short season. I remember an instance in which one of these victims of treachery, more mighty than the rest, leaped out of the pan with the instrument of torture tightly gripping his hindmost nethers, by which he was prevented getting through a hole in the wall. It was a piteous sight to view the poor thing writhing in agony, and my otherwise stout heart almost quailed before such a scene. The morning mail had just arrived, and this required my attention for about ten minutes, after which I found the means to put the poor brute out of its misery. Even this was not an easy task, for it was a brave rat, and seemed determined not to die. It should be stated that the rear of the house butted against a stable, and that the latter was probably the rendezvous of those nightly marauders.

For an establishment of that kind the Post-office in George street had as mean an exterior as could well be conceived. Except for a few printed notices in the window, there was nothing to indicate to a stranger the official character of the ​building​; and to remedy this defect, Mr. Woods, at his own expense had some canvas stretched upon a wooden frame, whereon was painted a crown and the word "Post office," on a red ground. This was put out every morning as a sign-board, and taken in every night as soon as the mail had left. Even this was barely visible at night, and so another "Post-office" was painted on a slip of glass suspended from the iron bracket of the out-side lamp. This caused a good deal of amusement, for as the glass was transparent, and the compound word was written only on one side, it read "Post-office" from one direction, and "eciffo-tsoP" from the other. Some years later when the Post-office had again gone westward, and Hastings was "revisited" by The Ghost of the Old Commission, at the bidding of Mr. Pittar, the disembodied spirit soliloquised thus :-

"The light is somewhat dim
And yonder lamp, once bright and full,
Now burns most marvellously dull;
But certainly ‘tis Number 4,
And this should be the office door;
But where, oh horror! where are flown
The scarlet board and yellow crown!
The tsop eciffo on the lamp,
And all that bore th' imposing stamp
Of royalty and Rowland Hill!
Don't Mr. Woods reside there still?
What means all this? Tho' I'm a ghost,
I must enquire to find the Post."

Leaving the ghost to trace out the whereabouts of the new Post-office, it may be here explained that the old unstately ​building​ had a side entrance in "Hopper's Passage" - a narrow thoroughfare which still retains the name which it orignally (sic) derived from a blacksmith named Hopper who owned some property close by. Hence, we see that between the years 1818 and 1839 the Hastings Post-office had severally occupied the corner of Waterloo passage, Post-office passage, and Hopper's passage. As it was in Hopper's passage that I was first taught my "letters," so it was apropos that in after years I should have to do with letters in the same locality. As, also, my first instructress was an abcdarian of the name of Duffy, so may it account for my being a duffer at literature and a dabster at letters. But, of the late Mr. Hopper I must here relate an anecdote. The old man suffered a good deal at times in consequence of his having a chronic cough. One evening three boys, named "Fox" Prior, William Kirby and William Stonestreet, took it in to their heads to play him a lark by fastening his door on the outside, and filling his room with tobacco-smoke blown through the key-hole. Their glee was at its height when they heard Mr. Hopper coughing in a distressing manner. The success of this boyish trick induced the unfeeling urchins to repeat it a few nights later. As though he anticipated this repetition of their mischievous pranks, the old gentleman placed the brown coat which he used to wear on the back of his chair while he secreted himself in a snug corner on the outside of his house. The boys arrived, and one of them soon commenced operations with his pipe and lighted tobacco. It was not long before the young smoker had to "pipe his eye," in consequence of old Hopper commencing retaliative operations with a rope upon his back. "So we'll smoke old Hopper out, will we?" exclaimed the flagellator, as he applied the rope most vigorously, "So we'll smoke old Hopper out" he repeated with every smack of the rope, until, with a howl, Bill Kirby hopped out of Hopper's sight.

The Penny Postage - A Day Mail

I have referrred to the views of Rowland Hill, as expressed in his pamphlet being shared by the Hastings Postmaster and his clerk, and I have stated much to show that those views were apparently sound. Mr. Hill's contention was that the revenue of the Post-office during twenty years had slightly -